


Great Lights

by SophroniaMiko



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Aching Blood, Also rated F for Niles' Filth, Angst and Humor, Coming of Age, Eldritch Smackdowns, F/M, Home, Leo regrets having Odin as a retainer, Love Triangles, Pain, Parallel Storytelling, Rated S for Elise's Sass, Revelations Route, Twitching Sword Hands, Unquenchable Blood Flames, dealing with death, fack the FE timeline honestly, lots of pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 67,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophroniaMiko/pseuds/SophroniaMiko
Summary: In the darkness of a war-torn Ylisse, Cynthia is Owain’s irrepressable, blinding sun.In the madness of the Nohrian-Hoshidan truce, Elise is Odin’s unquenchable guiding star.Caught between time, dimensions, and two great lights…everything has become complicated and Lissa's son isn’t sure who he is anymore or who he even wants to be.





	1. Life is Under No Obligation to Make Sense

**Bottomless Canyon**

“—naturally such foul fiends were no match for the— _huff_ —power that overflows from the meager fragment of my soul that remains— _wheeze_ —untainted by the eternal shadows. I couldn’t allay the fire in my sword hand any further—”

“Odin,” Niles cut him off, breathing hard as they ran through the dense forest. “You’re a mage. You’ve never used a sword in your life, and yes, I _do_ mean that literally and as a metaphor.”

Odin ignored the jibe at his chastity and laughed aloud, ducking under a branch and trying not to drop his tome. “You show your ignorance, brother in arms! Odin Dark has many talents beside world-rending— _ouch_ —and most fearsome magic!” In his search for an appropriately grand description of his skill with magic, he’d missed a slippery stone in the path and tweaked his ankle while stepping on it. Far to his right, he saw Laslow throw a concerned glance his way, so he waved it off and suppressed the pain. The mercenary had enough to worry about, anyway, as Peri was riding literal circles around him as he ran, chirping about the bloodbath ahead.

“Is one of your talents the ability to shut up? I see the clearing approaching and it’s already _your_ fault Lord Leo got ahead of us.” Niles swung his bow off his shoulder and held it loosely in his left hand. “I bet your mouth has better uses, anyway.”

Years of serving alongside the saucy bowman had made Odin all but immune to his scandalous comments and he rolled his eyes. In his peripheral vision, he saw Peri surge ahead triumphantly as the four royal retainers burst from the tree line and into the waiting battlefield. Lightning rent the sky overhead, illuminating the combatants. Two impressive figures on mounts immediately drew their attention and they rushed toward their respective lieges. “Phew…we finally…caught up…with you…” Odin panted, making a beeline toward the second prince of Nohr. “Why…why would you…leave us behind?”

Niles had already nocked an arrow and sent it whizzing toward a Nohrian swordsman. “Ha…” He, also, was out of breath, though he hid it better. “Perhaps our liege is a fan of seeing us suffer? I can understand.”

Peri cantered about, examining Xander from every angle. “Bah! You all are so slow! If I’d left a river of blood in my wake—like I usually do—you’d be swallowed by it!” Once she’d ascertained her lord was unharmed, she halted protectively at his side.

With his liege safely within sight, Odin tuned out the chatter and took a moment to survey the battlefield. He’d entered the scene at the very back, so the majority of the fighting was occurring much further ahead. Nohrian forces seemed to have made small stone forts into strongholds, forcing their opponents to root them out group by group, like moles. Gritting his teeth, he wondered if he knew any of the Nohrian forces personally from his time training in the barracks. Overhead, two dragons and their riders circled, occasionally swooping down to hack a foe or dodge an arrow.

A woman in Nohrian armor loped up to Leo and Xander’s side, pushing locks of long, dark hair out of her eyes. “M-more reinforcements?” She gasped out in horror.

Xander smiled at the young woman, a sight even his own retainers had rarely witnessed. “Don’t worry, Corrin—these late arrivals are retainers to myself and to Leo.”

Dread drained from the woman’s face and changed to delight. _So this is Corrin_ , _Lord Leo’s sister_ , Odin mused, examining her as closely as she was examining him and his comrades. She was about the same age as Leo and had the same pale, ashen skin as her Nohrian siblings. Her eyes, however, were fiercely red and oddly familiar. Where had he seen those eyes before…? Ah. They were similar to Nah's...but different. Interesting.

“That we are. Ready and eager to help, as ordered.” Niles purred, impropriety already in his eyes as he looked her over. “I am Niles, a retainer to Lord Leo. The enemy looks to be quite angry.” _But your ass looks fabulous._ Odin could practically read the words unspoken in his partner’s mind. “Don’t worry—it will be my genuine pleasure to make them regret crossing you.”

“And I…am Odin Dark! Loyal retainer of Lord Leo. I have cut through the darkness of space to serve my lord however he needs.” He could feel a good monologue brewing and tingled from the excitement. “My unmatched skill with magic will tear through the enemy’s ranks! From the depths--”

Laslow cut him off, reaching for the princess’ hand. “I’m Laslow. I’m one of Lord Xander’s retainers. I know our paths crossed once before, but I will fight by your side now.” His self-assured countenance wavered the moment the princess turned to look at him. “…That’s all. Please—it’s a bit embarrassing to be stared at by everyone…” He blushed and scuttled backwards behind Peri, who immediately launched into a long description of her favorite methods of mutilation.

Xander ordered them all to obey any orders from Corrin and then they were released into the fray. Peri trotted away gleefully with Niles in tow and the rest dispersed in pairs, leaving Laslow and Odin at each other's sides. “Ah, once again it’s you and me, old friend,” Laslow said fondly, unsheathing his sword. “Where shall we begin?”

Odin screwed his eyes shut, breathing in the familiarity of the situation. Laslow at his side...the smell of fresh rain and blood...the crack of magic and clang of metal...this was his element. “I feel it…the dark compass from below points us in…that direction!” He opened his eyes and stabbed a finger through the air.

“That direction it is! ‘twould be a shame not to follow the dark compass, after all.” Laslow chuckled. His head swiveled as the two trotted toward the fighting and Odin knew he was looking for Selena among the soldiers and slain.

“She’s sure to be here somewhere,” the dark mage said confidently, also looking about. “If memory serves me correct, the dragons overhead belong to Lady Camilla and one of her retainers. Lord Leo mentioned that they had joined with Corrin quite some time ago.” His companion's face softened almost imperceptibly in relief. A pair of Nohrian berserkers stepped in their paths and Odin tucked himself behind his hardier companion. “Keep their axes out of my neck and I’ll soften them up with some spells,” he directed, already rifling through a _Thunder_ tome.

Laslow readied his sword, maintaining eye contact with the foes. “Y’know, I rather dislike being your shield,” he mused over his shoulder. “I much prefer fighting side by side like we used to.” 

“Find Selena if that’s what you want,” Odin replied without any vinegar in his voice. “My power was too great to be contained in swords any longer.” In a swift move, he pivoted around the mercenary and fired a bolt of electricity at the closest berserker. Steam vented from the holes in the enemy’s armor as the spell sizzled them from inside. With a roar, the other swung their axe at Odin’s head, but Laslow deflected the attack with his sword. “Besides, this uniform is the stuff of true heroes.”

“It’s far too revealing,” Laslow grunted, shoving the second berserker aside and thrusting his sword under the chest plate of the one that had been the unfortunate recipient of a lightning bolt to the gut. “And that’s coming from the son of a dancer.”

Odin swiveled behind his back again and fired another jet of electricity at the remaining axe wielder. “All the better to showcase the— _ow!_ Damn!” His ankle had buckled and his shot had gone wide. He collapsed to the ground, desperately keeping hold of his tome.

The two had been in worse situations. Breathing evenly, Laslow used the body of the berserker that was currently sheathing his sword to block an attack from the other one. “I knew that foot was going to be trouble. Try not to die, won’t you? What would I tell your mother?”

Tucking the knee of his affected leg to his chest, Odin crunched up and fired a spell between Laslow’s legs, striking the foe directly in the chest and immobilizing him. After cursing at his friend for surprising him, Laslow pulled his sword from the one berserker and plunged it into the other. “What was that?” Odin scoffed, wiping mud off a page. “Try not to what?”

“That was far too close to home, if you know what I mean,” Laslow informed him, primly inspecting his leggings for singe marks. “We need to find you a healer before you render me sterile.”

“What a loss to the world that would be. Help me up,” Odin said, extending his hand. “We can’t let the enemy know I’m injured or they’ll be on us like flies in the marsh.” Laslow pulled him to his feet, but he struggled to stand, let alone walk. His steps halted and he lurched forward, giving a hidden archer nearby the opportunity to send an arrow whizzing into his hip. Laslow bristled and stepped over him as another figure materialized seemingly out of nowhere to launch spiked shuriken at the offender. Blood ran freely down Odin's leg, drenching his leggings. The world rippled and then went dark.

oOoOoOo

**Ylisstol Outskirts**

“We shouldn’t be here,” Owain protested, standing a foot away from the edge of the marsh that extended behind the westernmost walls of Ylisstol. In truth, the marsh was only about a mile across, but to a nine-year-old, that was practically an ocean.

“Why not?” Morgan demanded, hands on her hips. “It’s just water and mud.”

She had a point, but the endless deadness of the marsh still sent shivers up Owain’s spine. “Mother said it was dangerous ‘cuz we could fall in and drown.” Drowning was what he feared the most because it was the only condition clerics couldn’t heal due to pure mechanics.

Morgan drew herself to her full seven-year-old height and laughed fearlessly. “Then don’t fall in, you big baby.” While Owain continued to stare at the expanse of the deceptive plain, she hunted around the ground for a stick.

“How do you expect to be a hero if you’re scared of squishy ground?” A voice sounded behind the boy. It was Cynthia and she held out the end of a roll of twine to him. “Beano the Barbarian Queen always comes prepared! Ta-da! Tie this around your waist and I’ll haul you to safety if you fall in!”

The string and Cythia’s presence gave Owain all the confidence he needed and he joined Morgan at the edge of the marsh. He held up his arms while Cynthia buzzed about him like a bee, tying him with far more twine than might be necessary. Morgan poked at the soggy earth with a stick, stirring it into patterns. “Maybe monsters will come out of it if we throw stuff in it! Let’s throw them presents! What do monsters like?”

“I have dried apricots!” Owain volunteered, pulling a small bag out of his satchel.

“Monsters don’t eat apricots!” Cynthia scolded him.

Morgan stood at Owain’s defense. “How do you know? Everyone likes apricots.”

“Monsters only eat gross things like peppers and little kids!”

Owain spread his arms between the girls, ending the argument. “ _My_ father has a whole collection of monster bones and teeth. I’ve seen it. _I’ll_ decide what monsters eat.” The other two fell silent. Owain was correct—it was well known that his father had a creepy stash of unsavory memorabilia from the Plegian War. “I’ve decided that monsters eat big, dirty rocks. Go find the biggest, dirtiest rock you can find and that will make the monsters come out.”

The boy stood as the ultimate arbiter as Morgan and Cynthia brought him rock after rock. None of them were good enough. “Bigger! Dirtier!” He commanded.

 Finally, Cynthia came forward, staggering under the weight of the biggest rock her nine-year-old arms could carry. It was slimy and covered in moss. “I’ve…found it!” She huffed, proudly showing it off to her friends. Morgan ogled and made the appropriate _ooh_ and _ahh_ noises.

“Perfect! Now feed it to the monsters!” Owain demanded, stepping aside.

Cynthia waddled to the edge of the marsh and hefted the rock a few times before throwing it as hard as she could into the sludge. In the process, she lost her balance and half-leapt into the marsh herself. A blanket of flies that the trio hadn’t noticed before immediately exploded from the surface of the marsh and Morgan screamed, swatting wildly in the air. Cynthia thrashed wildly, making intermittent sounds of panic.

 Without thinking, Owain jumped in the marsh after her and caught hold of her arm. “Morgan!” He yelled, fighting both Cynthia’s terrified flailing and the swarm of flies filling his eyes. “The string!” The end of the twine was still on the bank of the marsh.

Morgan dropped to her knees and crawled toward it, grasping it in both hands. She pulled as hard as she could, though the twine cut through her palms. Her efforts were rewarded as Owain and Cynthia clawed their way back to solid ground inch by inch until they collapsed on the bank, muddy and gasping for breath. Morgan immediately dropped the string and knelt at her friends’ sides, shaking first one and then the other. “Are you alive? Did you die?” She asked, wiping mud from their faces with her cloak.

Owain rolled on his back, breathing heavily and unable to speak. Instead, he nodded and gave her a thumbs up. To his left, Cynthia coughed profusely, slinging marsh water in rivulets around her. When she finally cleared her airway, she turned to Owain and gaped at him. “Owain!” She exclaimed, pulling her friend to a sitting position. “You saved me. You…you’re a real hero!”

Her eyes sparkled with admiration and residual fear and Owain felt a swelling in his chest. “O-of course!” He replied, shrugging her praise off. “The Justice Cabal would never desert one of its members!”

Morgan squatted beside the two and clucked her tongue. “You two look like mud zombies. Our mothers are going to whoop us good.”

Cynthia and Owain gulped but looked at each other and giggled and soon all three of them were rolling on the ground overcome with laughter and adding blades of grass to their covering of earth.

The war was over, the sky was blue, and life was good.

oOoOoOo

**Bottomless Canyon**

Odin awoke with a gasp to an unfamiliar face looming over his own. Wide lilac eyes stared at him from a round face with small features, a slightly upturned nose, and a cheerful expression. “You’re awake! That didn’t take too long!”

Her sunshiny demeanor was an odd contrast to the stormy gray skies above their heads. The gloomy scenery told him that they were still beside the Bottomless Canyon. He sat up and put a hand to his hip. The flesh was smooth and unbroken. “I seem to have been healed. I must thank this peerless purveyor of medical magic!”

The young woman’s mouth dropped open into an ‘o’ of surprise. “Wow! I’ve never been called a purveyor before! Is that a compliment?”

Odin finally took a good look at her and recoiled a bit. “L-Lady Elise!” The hip-length, elaborately curled twintails…the beribboned armor…the Nohrian royal crest on her buttons…this was undoubtedly his lord’s younger sister and third princess of Nohr, Elise. She had aged since last he saw her but her love of bows and all things twee seemed not to have changed. “You deigned to grace my most soiled and loathsome body with your royal healing touch? I’m honored!”

She shrugged. “It’s what I do! You’re Leo’s retainer, right? Isn’t it weird how we’ve never met? He talks about you all the time.”

Odin averted his eyes, pleased and flustered that his liege would mention him. “Of course he would talk about the incredible Odin Dark. Tales of my dark deeds will be told throughout history, after all.”

Elise clapped her hands, delighted. “Wow! Leo was right! You’re totally weird! I love it!”

The dark mage blinked, unsure if he was being complimented or sassed. While thinking, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and looked around, finally noticing that they were nearly alone. The bulk of the army was nowhere to be found and the few stragglers that remained were recovering arrows and shuriken from corpses. “Where is everyone?” How long had he been out?

Elise waved him forward, toward the edge of the bridge over the Canyon. “Corrin and the rest jumped into the Canyon, but I stayed until you woke up. We gotta jump too, or they’ll get worried!”

“…Pardon?” Odin looked from the princess to the yawning chasm below and back again. “ _They’ll_ be worried? _I’m_ worried. Mostly for your sanity.”

“Haha!” Elise giggled and winked at him. “We can hold hands if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared, I--”

“Great! Then here we go!” With a whoop, the princess tossed herself into the abyss, ribbons and all.

Odin yelped and dove in after her, following the twinkle of her armor down into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has begun this journey with me! I have great plans for this story and I'm very excited about where we're going to go!
> 
> Er, keep in mind that we're gonna be playing fast and loose with timelines because, honestly, Fire Emblem time doesn't make any sense and everybody has to be legal age *coughElisecough* so...yes. If timelines don't make sense, pour gin in your tea until they do.


	2. Keep Your Psychoanalysis to Yourself

**Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Plane**

Corrin’s irritation was beginning to show through her poker face and Odin knew communication was breaking down. “Why do I have to name your pose?” The dragon princess asked, deeply confused and a little suspicious.

_Because I have no idea how to talk to you._ “Imagine my power is a well—humble, yet deep as the underworld and twice as dark.”

“Um. Okay.”

 “This pose (invented by none other than myself) is the bucket that I use to draw out power,” Odin explained patiently, waiting for Corrin to nod before continuing. “How can you draw water from a well using a bucket that has no name?”

“I do that literally every day. I drew water this morning using an unnamed bucket.”

Odin grinned. “That’s where you’re wrong! I’ve personally named every bucket in this entire camp.”

Corrin blinked. “You…named our buckets?”

“Naturally.”

“Why do you have time to think up names for buckets? Why aren’t you spending that time training?”

“I multitask,” Odin explained as if she were a simpleton. “I think up the names while I’m eating or when I’m falling asleep and I jot them in a special notebook.”

His conversation partner was still failing to grasp his genius. “You have a book full of names for buckets?”

“Not just buckets, of course. I specialize in weapons and that’s where all of my best names go.”

“But you have none left over for this hand position.”

“Well…it’s not that I don’t have any, it’s that none of them contain the pure dark energy needed to truly capture the umbral eminence of this pose.”

“Uh huh.” Corrin had started turning away slowly, attempting to escape the conversation. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find something that fits its, er, umbrella imminent.”

“ _Umbral eminence_.” Odin corrected her. “When do you think you’ll have a name ready?”

She was inching further and further away. “I’ll, um, be thinking about it. I’ll let you know.”

He waved at her as she slunk behind the mess hall. As soon as she’d disappeared, Odin felt ridiculous. Why did he have to tell her about the buckets? He could hear Selena’s voice in his head: _can’t you, like, pretend to NOT be weird or something?_ She didn’t understand, though. He couldn’t hide it. Every time he tried to act ‘normal’ he somehow ended up being even weirder. When he got anxious, it was like his mouth went on autopilot and words flowed like ale out of a leaky tankard. Besides, he _liked_ his way of speaking. It was fun and made his life suck less.

Corrin was right about one thing; he should spend more time training. Though Anankos had gifted him with magic, he seemed not to have inherited his father’s natural predilection for hexes. There was power simmering just beneath the surface, he could feel it, but accessing it was proving a challenge. He sighed. Morgan would have done well with this world’s magic. Laslow and Selena were lucky that they retained their classes and swords—they trained easily half as hard and were twice as effective out of sheer familiarity with their weapons.

Practice partners were harder to come by, as well. It was easy to parry sword and naginata blows, but few wanted to spend an afternoon dodging _Nosferatu_ strikes. All of the other mages in camp were…strange, even by Odin’s standards, and few spoke to him. Strangest of all was Rinkah and Hayato’s daughter, Rhajat. Odin had nearly wet himself the first time he met her, for she bore such a striking resemblance to Tharja that it made him dizzy. He was convinced Anankos had also brought her to this world, but both Sakura and Elise had apparently witnessed her birth before she was sent away to a deeprealm and transformed into the brooding teen she was today.

Deeprealms were unbelievable. Odin had thought _his_ childhood was unfortunate, but that was parsnips compared to the children of the soldiers. Babies were sent to other dimensions and grew years in this world’s months. What a way to parent. Small wonder that Rhajat and Mitama, Setsuna’s daughter, were a little cracked.

His thoughts carried him into the training grounds, but he was stopped before he entered. “Odin!” A fluty voice called out. He recognized it immediately as Elise’s. The princess, hands full of books, trotted over to him and stopped, panting. “Caught you! You sure walk fast!”

“I’m propelled by the spectral energy gifted by the spirits,” Odin explained.

“Amazing!” Elise replied, impressed. “I wish spirits would give ME spectral energy!” She laughed and then shook her head, twintails whipping about. “That’s not what I came here to say! I wanted to apologize for the whole jumping-into-the-Bottomless-Canyon thing the other day. I totally forgot you were unconscious when Corrin explained it!”

Odin cringed. “No need for apologies, milady, though I’ll admit I was…surprised when you suddenly threw yourself off the bridge.” Horrified might be a more accurate term. “I thought you possessed by some fell demon.”

“Not as surprised as I was when you dove in after and grabbed me! I thought a monster had gotten me!”

“Understandable. Odin Dark’s aura can be overwhelming for those not used to it.”

“I dunno about auras—it was more…” She stopped. She wasn’t sure how to (or if she really wanted to) explain the experience of being enveloped from behind by her brother’s scantily clad retainer. “Well, I was super impressed that you cared enough to follow me when you had no idea what was happening!”

“Like I said: no need for thanks. Seriously.” Odin had been convinced that if he didn’t die at the bottom of the canyon, he’d surely die at his lord’s hands when he learned that his retainer had allowed his little sister to fall to her death. Hardly worthy of gratitude.

Elise noticed the tomes in his hands and pointed at them. “Are you going to train with those?”

“That was my plan, yes.”

“I’m coming with you, then.” She didn’t ask if he minded the companionship or if she’d be in the way, she just informed him of her intentions like a small, frilly dictator.

“Ah! You wish to observe the legendary battle tactics that I have cultivated across time and space? Few get such an opportunity!”

Elise looked up at him. “Yeah! I just got reclassed to a tactician, but Leo won’t teach me magic. He said to go ask Camilla, but she’s busy too. You must be an amazing mage or you wouldn’t be my brother’s retainer, so you’re going to teach me.”

Again with the dictatorship. It reminded him of the way his mother used to speak to his uncle. Were all princesses this way? “You want me to teach you magic?”

“Yep! If you want to be the best, you have to learn from the best, right?”

Odin was now more flattered than he’d been in a long time and possibly his whole life. “Well,” he said, turning away so she couldn’t see how ridiculously pleased he was. “You speak the truth. If Lord Leo can’t teach you, I would certainly be the next best in line.” Someone like Hayato or Nyx would have more pure magical talent, but they were also terrible at strategy and had personalities that left much to be desired. As a veteran of two wars and someone currently fighting in his third, Odin felt confident that he had enough experience and strengths to balance his weaknesses. If the princess needed help, he would step up to the task. “I’ll do it,” he said.

“Great!” Elise cheered. “Come on! Let’s get started!”

“Er…today? I don’t have a lesson plan ready.” He wasn’t mentally prepared. He didn’t even have a name for his signature pose yet. How was he supposed to work under such conditions?

Elise all but ignored him and continued into the training grounds. “Oh, phooey. You don’t need that stuff. You’re Odin Dark. I bet you could teach magic in your sleep.”

If she was trying to tame him like a beast with compliments and ego boosts, she was succeeding. “Right! Yes! You have a keen and discerning eye, Lady Elise!” He strode ahead of her and led the way to the small building with an overhang under which archers often stood when it rained. “Do you have training garb to change into?”

“No. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It’s…” _Fluffy_. _Sparkly._ “It looks very expensive. Surely you wouldn’t want to risk damaging such fine armor with wayward magical explosions.”

Elise’s eyes widened. “Are there going to be a lot of magical explosions?”

Probably.

“Of course not,” he replied, trying to sound confident. “Don't worry yourself about it today. We’ll talk to Oboro and have some made. For now let’s focus on the basics.”

“Right,” Elise agreed. “Basics first.”

Odin set up a practice dummy made of wood. “Let’s see what you can do. Throw your strongest spell at this target.”

“Okay! Which spell should I use?” The princess dropped the armful of books she held. “I have _Fire, Wind_ , and some weird rat ghost Sakura gave me.”

The two stared at the rat spirit cards blankly as neither had any clue how to use them. “Let’s use _Wind_. No spectral rodents and less chance of blowing things up.”

Elise picked up the green tome and ran a hand over the cover. “Did you ever blow anything up when you started training?”

“Never!”

In reality, he’d set fire to the guardhouse. Twice. Then when they took _Fire_ away from him, he scared Beruka’s dragon clean out of the sky with _Lightning_. She still wasn’t speaking to him.

“Just as I expected from my teacher! Alright, here we go!” Elise exclaimed, squaring herself with the dummy. A solemn air descended as she set her jaw and extended her arm. She stood still, piercing the target with a stare and breathing hard. Moments passed. Seconds of silence stretched into minutes.

Odin’s eyes flicked to the book. “Try opening the spellbook.”

Elise colored from embarrassment. She hurriedly opened the tome and flicked through the pages. “Okay, now I’m really ready.” Again she stared daggers at the dummy, almost scowling in concentration. Time ticked by. Finally she turned around, sweat beading in her hairline. “Um. Nothing’s happening.”

“Are you pushing your magic through the tome?”

“Maybe? I can’t tell.”

Odin narrowed his eyes. “Have you ever cast an attack spell before?”

“No.”

“Do you feel the magic?”

“Yeah! It’s all warm and flowy.”

“Attack magic shouldn’t flow. It should buzz.”

Elise frowned. “It’s the same magic I use with rods and staves.”

Bingo. “Oh! No wonder! Healing and battle magics are different. You can’t use one for the other.”

“What?” Elise was aghast. “But that’s all I have!”

“Nonsense!” Odin winked at her. “Put the book down and come with me—we’re going on a journey of magical self-discovery!”

oOoOoOo

 

**Royal Palace, Ylisstol**

“Gaius and I had teamed up to take the bulk of the soldiers in the left flank because we’re hella awesome,” Vaike bragged to the gathering of children in the palace’s library. “The mages and airborne units were wiping out the Plegian reserves along the wall, leaving Birdie Boy and Princey-pants to surge straight through the middle towards the Mad King.”

Owain, Inigo, Severa, Morgan, Cynthia, and Laurent’s eyes were all fixed on the burly fighter, absorbing his every word. “Who struck the final blow?” Laurent asked, giving up on his attempt to seem disinterested.

“Chrom, that old tight-trousered pretty boy. He’s usually way lame, but he’s alright when he partners with Robin, I guess,” Vaike admitted unwillingly.

Inigo grinned. “Of course! Father can do anything!”

“Only if he has _my_ daddy at his side,” Morgan added smugly.

 Owain pulled her braid and she yelped in protest. “Where was Mother?” The boy asked.

Vaike squinted, trying to remember. “She was with the mages on the wall. That was a crazy battle, man. Cordelia threw a--”

“BORING!” Severa interrupted. “Next story!”

“Don’t you wanna hear about your mom?” Morgan asked.

Severa rolled her eyes. “No. I’m sure she fought perfectly and was wonderful like always. Not interested.”

Laurent pushed up his glasses as pensively as a twelve-year-old could. “You seem to have some sort of hang up about your mother.”

“No, I don’t! Who asked you, anyway, nerd boy?”

“I dislike that moniker.”

“Don’t be such a nerd, then!”

“Alright, alright, don't fight in here,” Vaike said, laughing and shooing the kids into the hallway. Technically he was supposed to be organizing books as punishment for misplacing a halberd. “Get lost before anyone sees you. I’ll tell you more stories another day.”

Once they were out in the hall, Inigo turned to Severa, who was still red in the face and scowling fiercely. “I…I know what would make you feel better! H-having tea with me!” He threw her his best wink and held the crook of his arm out for her to take.

“Ew. No,” Severa replied. “In your dreams. When you did get so obsessed with tea? This is the second time you’ve asked me.”

Inigo blushed. “Mother told me…it would help with my shyness…”

“Gawds. The last thing we need is you turning into some useless flirt.”

Cynthia bounced forward and looped her arm through Inigo’s. “I’ll go to tea with you, but only if there are cakes! Cake sounds so good right now!”

Blood flooded Inigo’s face, turning it even redder than before. He hadn’t expected someone to say yes and now he didn’t know what to do. He was spared from answering by Owain, who piped up. “Cynthia’s the only one nice enough to have pity tea with you, so be grateful. Better hide the sweets, though, or she’ll eat them all and get fat!”

Cynthia gasped. “I will not! Daddy eats sweets all the time and he’s not fat! It’s in my genes!”

“Yeah, but he’s an assassin. He spends all his time fighting with daggers and jumping across tree branches and stuff. You don’t do any training.”

“You could join the army,” Morgan suggested.

“I don’t want to be a soldier though.”

The kids were walking now, heading for the courtyard. “Don't you wanna be a hero?” Owain asked.

“You don’t have to fight to be a hero, dummy,” Cynthia reminded him.

“I got it!” Morgan announced. “You can use a weight-loss hex from my mom!”

The rest of the group cringed collectively. “Hell no!” Cynthia replied. “I’d lose more than weight! And I’m not fat!”

As they laughed, a head of white hair popped out of a room across the hall. “Cynthia! Did I just hear you swear?” Robin asked, astonished.

Cynthia blanched. “M-Mr. Robin! Um…that was…er…yes sir.” Panic welled up in her face. “Please don’t tell Mother!”

“If you don’t want me to tell Sumia, I better not hear it again, understood?” Robin shook his head. “Where did you hear language like that, anyway?”

The kids looked at each other. Morgan supplied the answer. “Mr. Vaike said it!”

 Robin sighed. “I should have known.”

“Sometimes he also says--” She continued on to primly say words that the other kids had never even heard before.

Far away, Chrom was entertaining a foreign dignitary and the sounds of the luncheon could be heard floating down the dead silent hall. Robin’s eyes were as big as saucers as he processed what had just come out of his ten year old’s mouth. Inigo looked as though he might fall over. Severa and Owain were delighted. They all held their breaths, waiting to see what the tactician would do.  

“That’s…” he spluttered, unable to operate his own face. “Well. I will attend to that. You kids…run along.” He slowly withdrew into the study with an expression as if he’d just looked into the abyss.

The group walked the rest of the way in silence. Once outside in the sunshine, Morgan turned to Cynthia and patted her arm. “See? He doesn’t even remember your swear now.”

“Th-thanks…”

Laurent straightened his glasses, which had fallen askew somewhere along the way. “I shall take my leave now; Mother will be expecting me. Have a pleasant rest of your day.”

“If you mean goodbye, just say it,” Severa grumbled.

After Laurent had departed, Cynthia scrambled up a tree while the rest of the kids looked for paraphernalia to use as play weapons. “Mr. Robin’s totally gonna beat Mr. Vaike up,” Owain commented as he scanned the ground.

Cynthia poked her head out of the bright green leaves and frowned, a lollypop stick protruding from the corner of her mouth. “Yeah! What if he beats Mr. Vaike up so bad he can’t fight anymore and there’s another war?”

Morgan found a stick she liked and stabbed the air with it. “There’s not gonna be another war,” She assured them, twirling with her wooden weapon. “Daddy won’t let that happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin DID attack Vaike later, though the beat down was verbal instead of physical.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading! I'd be honored if you'd drop me a comment and tell me your thoughts! No pressure, of course :)


	3. Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day

**East Gate, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Plane**

“…You got lost in the forest while discovering yourselves,” Leo repeated slowly, vacillating between annoyance and begrudging amusement with his younger sibling.

Elise, covered in brambles and dirt, grinned. “Yep!”

“What does that even mean?”

“I found my battle magic! Odin was right—it DOES buzz!”

Leo threw a look at Odin, who swallowed nervously. Niles, who was posted behind his liege, seemed to be deeply enjoying his partner’s discomfort. Camilla, also present, ignored them all and examined her youngest sister from head to toe. “Oh, darling,” she purred. “I was about to send the girls after you! Were you frightened?”

Elise shook her head. “Not even a little! Odin chased off a wildcat and told me all sorts of stories about a princess and a legendary grandmaster!”

Camilla’s retainers were waiting near Niles. Selena slowly turned to stare pointedly at Odin, who avoided her eyes. Camilla herself smiled. “Sounds like he took good care of you.”

“Aside from getting her lost in the first place,” Leo added, still frowning. “I expect more from my retainers. Why couldn’t you find your magic here in camp?”

Odin, also covered in pine needles and forest debris, stepped forward. “I apologize milord. I misheard the call of the twilight and turned left at the mushroom patch. From there it was all downhill. Literally.”

The mud and leaves covering the two hikers testified to the validity of the story. Leo sighed and shook his head. Elise pouted in response. “Who _cares_ how we got lost. Didn’t you hear me? I found my battle magic! I’m gonna be an amazing warrior like the ones in Odin’s stories!”

“Did he tell you about his _favorite_ hero?” Niles asked, smirking nastily. “The brave and beautiful pegasus knight?”

Selena’s glare intensified, as did Odin’s effort to avoid eye contact.

“No!” Elise replied, turning to her tutor. “You have pegasi in your homeland? What are they like? Who is the knight?”

“Now, now,” Camilla interrupted, putting an arm around her and gently guiding her away. “That can wait until tomorrow. Right now let’s get you cleaned up and fed. Corrin is going to meet us at the baths tonight.”

The two walked away together, followed by Beruka. Leo began to lecture his directionally challenged retainer but gave up halfway through and left for supper. Niles chuckled darkly and also departed, leaving a glowering Selena alone with Odin.

He flinched when her boots crunched on rocks as she approached. “Is that what she is to you now?” She asked, disgusted. “A story to impress people with?”

“You know that’s not true,” he answered. “My memories of home are my treasures. Treasures are meant to be shared.” He set his jaw and finally met her eyes.

Something in his voice softened Selena’s face and she backed off. “Well…they better be your treasures. Because…because they’re mine, too!” An expression that might have been soft changed to a scowl at the last moment. “And stay out of forests! Ugh, look at you! I’m ashamed to know you!” Without another glance, she whirled around and stomped away after Camilla and Beruka.

_Ah,_ Odin thought fondly. _She’s as good with her feelings as I am_. All these years and she hadn’t changed a bit.

oOoOoOo

Elise hadn’t forgotten Niles’ words when she met with Odin two days later. As soon as she had changed into her new training garb, she peppered him with questions. “Who’s the pegasus knight? What’s her name? What does she look like?”

“Behold!” Odin said after he finished setting up the training dummy. “The sweet golden fruits of knowledge only grace the lips of those who have walked the thorny path of perspiration!”

Elise tilted her head, bemused. “Fruit? No, I want to hear about the pegasus knight.”

“The gate to the vineyard of Odin Dark’s memories is sealed with a bloody padlock. Break the hinges of the gates of the damned with the sweat of your brow and you may partake of the dark king’s wine!”

“Wine? Did you forget to eat breakfast or what?”

“Well, yes,” Odin admitted. “But that’s not the point. How can we break the bread of camaraderie when we have not yet tackled our tasks?”

Elise blinked at him. “That’s…OH! Oh! You’re saying you’ll tell me stories after we train, right?”

“Correct! Deliver unto me the best spell you can conjure!” He ushered her a few yards in front of the target. “See the charm I tied to the dummy? See if you can make it swing with _Wind_.”

More determined than ever, the princess opened the tome and stretched out an arm. Using techniques she’d learned in the forest, she grounded herself and drew up her energy. Odin felt the magic before he saw it and immediately knew he’d misjudged her aptitude. A great, shapeless wind erupted from the tome and blasted through the training ground, stripping nearby trees of their leaves and ripping the charm from the target. Elise dropped to her knees as soon as it was over, panting and trembling. Hana and Hinata, who were training nearby, gaped in astonishment.

Odin clapped his hands. “Now _that_ was magic! That was also a prime example of why we don’t start novices out with _Fire_ lest they unwittingly turn camp into a deadly conflagration.” He knelt at her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Hah…” Elise panted. “Did I…make…the charm… _hah_ …swing?”

“I’ll say,” Odin replied. “You put the charm on permanent holiday.”

Elise smiled weakly. “I had no idea…it would be this exhausting.”

Once upon a time, Odin had thought of mages as weak, fragile bookworms. Using magic himself had changed his perspective. Magic took every bit as much strength as swordplay, but of a different kind that unfortunately did not build muscle. He chuckled and helped her to a bench in the shade. “Indeed. Tomorrow we’ll start working on stamina and control. For now, sit and regain your noble breath!”

Chest still heaving, the princess fixed her eyes on him. “I’ll recover faster…if you tell me stories!”

“Very well! Any requests? Shadowy tunnels? Unfathomable mysteries? Priceless treasures?”

“Tell me about the pegasus knight!”

There was an odd beat, like he was hoping she’d forgotten about that topic. An unnamable expression passed over his face. Before she could comment, however, the moment passed and he was in full-color storytelling mode. “Yes, the pegasus knight. Her name has been lost to the ages so she is only known by her class and loyal mount!”

“Was she in the same era as the great grandmaster?”

“The very same! Whenever the undead erupted from the corrupted earth, she would be there to lay them back to eternal rest amidst showers of delicate petals!”

“Petals?”

“Indeed. Annals of the great and forgotten manuscripts of archaic arcanity speak witness to her miraculous appearances. It is said she would ride into battle amid plumes of colored smoke or bursts of fragrant herbs as she shouted words of ground-shattering power! The very sound of her voice struck dread in the hearts of all who would perpetuate wickedness and promote decay!”

Elise’s mouth hung open. “Wow!”

“Her shining copper hair, the color of the sacred flames of the seven seals, reflected the sun and scorched the impurities from the hearts of all who lay eyes upon her visage!”

“So she was a redhead?”

“Very much so, though not the same as Princess Hinoka. More of an orange-head, actually.”

“Say, how old are you anyway?”

“My years number to the star-blessed count of twenty-six.”

Elise pursed her lips. “How do you know all these ancient heroes if you’re the same age as Corrin?”

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,” Odin replied. “In other words…it’s complicated.”

“It must be!” She puzzled over the idea for a moment. “What kind of weapon did she use?”

Odin rose and extended a hand to the now recovered princess. “The waters of wisdom have receded! Perhaps more training will bring the tide in again!”

“Whatever that means!” Elise agreed, laughing.

oOoOoOo

 

**Royal Gardens, Ylisstol**

 Clouds drifted slowly above the treetops, mercifully shielding the gardens and their occupants from the brutal summer sun. The smell of flowers and grapes permeated the air, thick with buzzing insects. Morgan had plaited her long black hair around her head and sat against a tree trunk, stirring dust with a twig. Quiet and tranquility reigned. Finally the girl broke it, leaning her head back against the tree. “How long are you gonna stare at that thing?” She asked the figures in the branches above her.

“This is a big deal!” Cynthia replied in solemn tones. “Let him be!”

Morgan groaned. “It was a big deal three days ago, when it first appeared. Now it’s old news and I'm bored.”

“It’s _proof_ , Morgan!” Owain said.

“Proof of what?”

“Proof that I’m part of the Exalted line!”

“Of course you’re part of the Exalted line. Your mother is the first princess. Where do you think you came from?” Morgan asked, both annoyed and bewildered.

Owain frowned. “Father said I fell out of a reeking box.”

“Really?” Cynthia asked. “Daddy said I was an accident!”

Morgan looked between the two of them and squinted but said nothing. “Point is, it’s not like there was ever a chance you _weren’t_ part of the Exalted line.”

“…Mother’s Brand never appeared, so she wasn’t sure she was Uncle Chrom’s real sister,” Owain explained, running a finger over his own Brand. “She started crying and laughing at the same time when I showed her my hand. I’ve never seen her do that before.”

A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the tree. Morgan stood up and dusted herself off. “I’m gonna go help Mother and Noire with research. Let me know when you’ve stared a hole in your hand.”

“Ah, bite me,” Owain replied, sticking his tongue out at her back. She turned around and blew him a raspberry before disappearing behind a patch of tall sunflowers.

Cynthia sighed. “She’s just jealous she doesn’t have something cool like you do.” The two sat quietly for a time. “Hey!” She said suddenly, sitting up and shaking the branch on which she was draped. “Now you can do AWESOME battle shouts! Like…I WILL SLAY THEE IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE WITH MY EXALTED LEFT HAND!”

“Yeah!” Owain cheered. “Except I’m right handed…how about PREPARE TO MEET OWAIN OF THE BRANDED HAND!”

“FLEE BEFORE THE MAGNIFICENCE OF OWAIN THE BRANDED!”

“EXALTED FIST OF DOOM!”

Laughter rang across the garden and the children’s movement shook more leaves off the tree. “Is your mom gonna make you start training with your cousins?” Cynthia asked, rearranging herself on the branch.

“Yeah, I start in the fall. Luci’s gonna teach me sword fighting and Ms. Sully’s gonna take me riding. Father promised a magic lesson this Friday, but Mother made him swear not to use black magic.” Shame. It might have been fun to summon a Risen or two. He’d never actually seen a Risen, but he’d admired his father’s collection of Risen teeth. How bad could dumb old half-dead monsters be against him, a member of the Exalted line? “Are you gonna start training with the pegasus knights? Morgan’s been training with magic forever already.”

“No,” Cynthia replied quickly. “I don’t want to fight. I want to be a lady and learn to bake better than my mother.”

Owain frowned. “What happened to Beano the Barbarian Queen? What about the Justice Cabal?”

“As the Barbarian Queen, I’ll just order you and Morgan to do my battling for me,” she explained. “I’ll pay you in honey buns!”

“Aw, battling won’t be as fun without you.”

“War isn’t fun. People die.”

“Not with geniuses like Mr. Robin and Uncle Chrom in charge!”

Cynthia wasn’t amused. “Who are you going to fight, anyway? We’re at peace with Plegia.”

“I have a whole list of heroic goals,” Owain explained.   
“Like what?”

He sat up taller, glad she’d asked. “You know. Save a town from brigands. Battle a dragon. Go on a righteous-fury fueled rampage. Win a fair maiden’s kiss. Travel to new worlds. Find an ancient tome of power. Stuff like that.”

Cynthia snorted and shimmied down to the branch upon which Owain sat. After testing to make sure it would hold her weight, she inched next to the boy. “If that’s your list, we can go ahead and start marking stuff off today.”

Before he could ask what she meant, she grabbed his face with both hands, leaned in, and clumsily pressed her lips to his. It only lasted a moment before he jerked away, goggle eyed, and teetered on the branch before falling off completely. He landed with a thud. “Oww,” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his back. “What’d you do that for?”

“I helped you, Cynthia replied, peering down at him and giggling. “You said you wanted a fair maiden’s kiss. I happen to be a fair maiden, so there you have it!”

“I said _win_ a fair maiden’s kiss, not be attacked with one. And you’re not a fair maiden! You’re just Cynthia!” He pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his backside.

Cynthia pouted from above. “Meanie! I’m a catch! And you _did_ win the kiss. You won it by being you because I think you’re awesome.”

Blood rushed to Owain’s cheeks and he momentarily malfunctioned, entirely unsure how to handle whatever it was that he was feeling right now. Finally he did the only thing he could think of to rid himself of this strange emotion: insult her. “I’d rather kiss a Risen than you!” He declared, then mimed vomiting on the tree trunk.

Cynthia swung to the ground, scowling. “Fine!” She fired back in a wounded tone. “See if I ever help you again! I didn’t want to kiss you anyway! Weirdo! Creep!” She stomped away, hiding angry and embarrassed tears.

After she was gone, he leaned against the tree and scrubbed at his mouth. Girls were unfathomable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you didn't find Odin's food metaphors...unsavory. I tried to make them as tasteful as possible, but they were vital to the meat of the story. If you're feeling salty, feel free to lettuce me know. 
> 
> THANK YOU so much to everyone who reads and comments! I hope this gives you some more cotton candy sweet cavities 'cuz it's gonna get darker from here on out.


	4. Wolfskin Cuisine is Banned in Three Nohrian Provinces

**Training Grounds, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Plane**

"Hmm.” Odin studied Elise’s form as she hurled spells at dummies. “You’ve got the power, that’s for sure, and your form has improved immensely over the past few weeks. Your control leaves something to be desired, though.”

Elise doubled over, panting and sweating through her cotton Hoshidan-style training garments. Her hands trembled as she held a sweaty _Fire_ tome. “I… _hah_ …I’m trying my best to remember everything you told me, I just… _hah_ …forget it when I start feeling the magic.” She straightened and wiped her brow with a dusty sleeve, leaving a smudge of dirt on her face. “I can try again!”

She raised the tome again, but Odin plucked it from her fingers. “Enough of that for now. Milord would curse me back to my homeland if you fainted because I pushed you too hard.” He helped her to a bench and fetched her water skin. “Just watch for a bit.”

The water was cool and Elise spilled it all over herself as she gulped it down. “Alright, I’m watching!” She called across the pitch as she tried to wring out the bottom of her robe.

Odin pulled _Nosferatu_ from his cloak and riffled through the pages, drawing up a dark, heavy magic that absorbed light. “When you go to throw a spell, first you must stand in your power pose,” he explained to his pupil. “Then feel the magic flow up your arm and settle in the hollow between your thumb and forefinger. I’ll do it slowly so you can see. Now, once you’ve got it in hand, it’s sort of a…flick of the wrist and first two fingers. Like…so.” With a simple movement, he launched the spell at a practice dummy and hit it squarely in the chest. “Try to keep your eyes on your target. You’ll instinctively throw the spell towards wherever you’re looking.”

Elise nodded. “I try--I really do!”

Odin grinned. “It just takes lots of practice. Trust me, I know. Don’t, uh, don’t ask Niles about when I was a beginner mage. He’ll tell you slanderous lies.” His grin had turned into a grimace. “Anyway, I’ll do it faster this time.” He turned back to the dummy and pointed at it. “Ahoy there, foe! To take one more step is to declare war against Odin Dark—a grave mistake, indeed! Is that how it shall be? Behold! I shall vanquish you and send you to an eternity of regret in your tomb! UNQUENCHABLE BLOOD FLAMES!” With a flourish of the arm and an exaggerated spin, he launched another blast from _Nosferatu_ through the air.

Frowning, Elise narrowed her eyes at her teacher. “Does all that yelling and dancing that you do really help?”

Odin turned to her, taken aback and breathing hard from the exertion. “Dancing? I do no such thing. That’s Laslow’s shtick!”

“What else do you call all your spinning and twirling?”

“That’s…” Odin closed one eye and groped for an explanation. “Vocalizations are a helpful tool to focus energy and surprise one’s opponent! The, er, spinning is just for aesthetics.”

Laughter escaped Elise’s mouth before she could rein it in. “You’re just trying to look cool? For who?”

“For myself, mostly.” Odin replied, turning red in the cheeks. “Self confidence is a vital part of battle. If I don’t find myself mystical and terrifying, how will I project such an image to my enemies?”

Elise hadn’t considered this point of view before and immediately furrowed her brows, trying to imagine what members of the opposing armies saw when she rode onto the battlefield. A witch, dripping with magic? No, not likely when Nyx had been reclassed into an actual witch. A fierce goddess of battle and death? Ha! With a big sister like Camilla hovering nearby? Not a chance. Perhaps she was seen as a shrewd, calculating genius—a scythe with a blade made of ice. She voiced this to her companion, who had the audacity to snort in laughter. “Hey!” She protested, pouting. “How do _you_ see me, then?”

Amusement mixed with hesitation played on Odin’s face. “It doesn’t matter how I see you. I’m not the enemy.”

“You’re my instructor, so it matters. I have to know. When you first met me how did you see me?”

She was wearing her stubborn face now, so Odin decided it would be best to just answer. “Er,” he stalled, thinking back. “Cute...?”                                                

“Cute!?” Elise was horrified. “Me? That’s what I add to this family of warriors? _Cute_?”

Odin squinted at her, unsure if she was joking or not. Did she honestly think she was in the same monstrous arena as Camilla, Xander, or even his own Lord Leo? Her face got darker and darker the longer he hesitated. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you are,” He explained quickly. He wasn’t sure if Elise was the kind of princess who threw tantrums and he didn’t want to find out. “There are people who are meant for more than fighting, y’know. Not everything has to be about war.”

Elise shook her head and frowned. “Everything in my life has _always_ been about war. We were raised to be warriors. I’m the only one of my siblings who has never made Father proud. Camilla and Xander are so strong…Leo is a genius…and he even said Corrin has tenacity…but he’s never had anything good to say about me.”

“Maybe that’s…sort of a good thing, right?”

“How do you figure that?”

This whole conversation made Odin feel like he was walking on Hoshidan rice paper. “In his later years, your father has become a less than ideal role model, wouldn’t you agree?”

Elise wanted to argue—to defend her father’s honor—but he was right, after all. Odin spoke again. “What do you value?” He asked her as he sat next to her on the bench.

What did she value? “Peace. Happiness. Fun! Family. Stuff like that.”

“If the person King Garon wants you to be goes against the values you treasure...that just can’t be the right path. That’s how I see it, anyway.”

“What about my siblings?”

Odin shrugged. “They have their own values to pursue. Your values don’t have to match theirs. Or anyone else’s for that matter.”

The sun was starting to sink into the treetops. Across the camp, the dinner bell clanged loudly. Elise sat as if carved from stone, thoughts filtering through her mind. “You’re right,” she mumbled, eyes unfocused. “I’ll probably never be like them…but why do I feel like I have to?”

Odin scuffed the dust on the stone platform with his feet. “Probably because everyone has always told you that being gentle is being weak. No one ever supported your peaceful dreams…they just pushed weapons in your hands…” His voice trailed off and for a moment he was far away.  

Wind rustled through the leaves as the sun’s light continued to dim. Elise leaned toward him. “Hey…are you okay?”

Odin’s head snapped up and he winked. “Odin Dark is ever at his darkest! Sometimes he is compelled to lend his ear to the sinister hissings of the netherworld! Pay it no mind!” The dinner bell rang out again and he swiveled to look over his shoulder towards the mess hall. “I think it’s Keaton’s night to cook. I’m going to go hide in Lilith’s temple.” Sometimes Corrin brought the tiny dragon loaves of bread or bunches of fruit. Maybe Lilith would share if he explained the horrors of Wolfskin cuisine.

Elise stood up and grabbed her tome again. “I’m going to stay here for a little while longer.”

“I think you’ve used enough magic for today.” Odin advised. “If you want to work on something, work on your aim.”

“How am I supposed to do that without using magic?”

“Use some of Felicia and Jakob’s throwing knives. They have a similar heft.” As Odin gathered his own tomes, he noticed that the princess’ face was still overcast. Without thinking, he reached out and patted her head. “Chin up, pocket-sized princess.”

Elise huffed and ducked away from his hand, refusing to look at him. “I’m not a child, you know!” She yelled at his retreating back.

oOoOoOo

 

**Royal Apartments, Ylisstol**

Owain knew something was wrong by the way his mother’s hands shook as she poured tea for the visitors. Frederick and Robin were frequent visitors to their family’s apartment in the castle, so there should have been nothing amiss when they knocked on the front door. Uneasiness had been seeping through the halls of the castle—Owain had felt it—but he was still caught off guard when Robin informed his parents that Henry was being called into battle.

“So it…it’s really happening?” Lissa asked, sinking into a chair at the dining room table.

Robin nodded gravely. Owain looked between the tactician’s grim expression and the fear in his mother’s eyes. “What’s happening?” He asked, annoyed that there was information he hadn’t been told.

“Valm has announced its intentions to invade Ylisse,” Robin replied, after a nod from Lissa. “They’ve gathered a massive army under our noses and stand poised to strike from the west.”

“But why?”

“Ylisse is well-known as a goldmine of natural resources—resources Valm lacks. I assume they are counting on the kingdom being significantly weakened after the war with Plegia.”

Lissa laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “But why is only Henry being summoned? I know we don’t have many healers.”

Frederick answered instead of Robin. “Lord Chrom has decided that it is imperative for a member of the royal family to remain in Ylisstol while the invasion is thwarted.”

“It will show confidence in the troops,” Robin explained. “If both the Exalt and the first Princess were to leave, people would assume the worst and panic. If at all possible, we’d like this invasion to be put down quietly.”

“Who else is being called up?” Henry asked, rubbing a thumb over his wife’s hand comfortingly.

Robin pulled a thick notebook out of his cloak and opened to a bookmarked page. “About three-quarters of the Shepherds. Exceptions have been made for those who have young children and those who are actively involved in restoration efforts, like Panne, Gregor, and Nowi.”

Lissa scanned the page. “Maribelle is being called up?”

“Yes. We need a mounted healer. She and Libra will be our main medics on this campaign.”

“Donnel is on this list as well…what are they going to do with Brady? He’s only thirteen.”

“That’s another reason we’ve asked you to remain behind,” Robin said. “We’ve promised care for the children of any family where both father and mother have been drafted. They’ll be given rooms in the castle until their parents return. Could you help care for them and keep them from panicking?”

Sinking back again, Lissa nodded. “Of course. Who are we expecting to move in?”

“Aside from the ones who already live here, we expect Brady, Kjelle, and…pardon, but I don’t think this is something…” Robin tilted his head meaningfully in Owain’s direction.

Henry stood. “Owain! Y’know how your mother won’t let me teach you dark magic? Wanna break that rule and summon some monsters? Nya ha!”

“I…well, yeah!” Owain said, torn between excitement at the idea and irritation at being obviously excluded from the conversation.

Lissa crossed her arms. “Over my dead body! You’ll do no such thing, young man!”

“Aw,” Henry and Owain groaned in tandem. “Come on, Mother, it’d be great practice for my sword hand! It’s feeling particularly hungry today.” Owain clasped his hands in front of his face, pleading.

“No!” Lissa snapped. “Go find your cousins!”

“Sorry, son,” Henry said, laughing and rumpling Owain’s hair. “I promise—when I come back, we’ll distract your mother and summon a whole horde of the things! You can start your own toenail collection!”

As Lissa protested in the background, Owain sighed and stuffed some snacks in a satchel. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave.” He strapped his practice sword to his belt and rolled his eyes when his mother stood up to kiss his cheek. “See you tonight, Mother.”

“Be safe! No sparring with sharpened swords! Do you have a waterskin in that satchel? Dehydration is a serious--”

“ _Thank you_ , Mother,” Owain grumbled. “You realize I’m a man now, right?”

“You’re fifteen, darling. You’re barely into puberty. Now go play with your friends.”

“Ugh!” Owain flushed and ducked out the door, ignoring his father’s highly amused laughter.

oOoOoOo

 

**Sparring Grounds, Ylisstol**

“Hyah!” Inigo grunted as he swung downwards, aiming at Severa’s unprotected left flank. When she blocked his attack, he twisted around to make a slice at her legs. Sitting off to the side with Morgan, Owain admired his footwork. His steps were easy, measured, and dripping with grace. _Must be the years of dancing_ , Owain thought, resting his chin in his hand.

Severa, on the other hand, moved in short bursts of intense energy, striking and recoiling like a snake. Her glossy cocoa-colored hair hung halfway down her back, tied in two tails. When she pivoted, they whipped around and smacked her opponent in the face if he was close enough. “You should stick to dancing,” she taunted Inigo, sweeping him off his feet with her leg. “Your fighting stinks.”

The blue-haired teen rolled onto his back, raising his practice sword just in time to block a strike that would have ended the match. “You’d better stay with fighting, my pet,” he riposted, dodging another blow and hooking his toes behind her knee to pull her leg from under her. “You have no other skills.”

“How dare you!” She spat. “Girls with as good looks as mine don’t need skills!”

“And yet—whoah—you _still_ don’t have a boyfriend,” Inigo pointed out, dodging stabs.

The smile fell off his face as her attacks became more vicious. “As if you can talk!” She hissed through gritted teeth. “You’ve asked out every girl in the capital and been rejected by them all.”

“N-not every girl!” Inigo protested, blushing.

Severa smirked. “You’re going to— _hrghh!_ —die alone in some tea room.” It was becoming harder to talk as the two swung at each other again and again. The battle ended when Inigo reminded her that her mother already had a boyfriend by her age and she responded with a blow so fierce it knocked the sword from his hand and left him defenseless. “Why don’t you go spar with my mother then? And take her for tea, while you’re at it!” She said acidly, sword leveled at his throat.

He pushed it away gently. “No, thanks.” Once the weapon was withdrawn, he bent over double, panting. “I don’t want my arse kicked twice.”

“You’re up, Shorty.” Severa said, tossing her sword to Morgan, who caught it easily.

“I’m not sure this is fair,” The smaller girl complained, shedding her cloak and walking to the middle of the sparring pitch. “Why am I, clearly the shortest here, pitted against the tallest?” She pointed up at Owain, who was posing heroically in the sunlight.

Owain snorted derisively. “Don’t give me that talk. You always destroy me.”

Fanning herself on the sidelines, Severa sneered. “Maybe she wouldn’t if you spent more time training and less time chasing our favorite little housewife.”

“Where is she, anyway?” Morgan inquired.

“I haven’t seen her much since she found out her parents were being called up,” Owain admitted, frowning.

The kids fell silent.

“Well, someone needs to drag her ass out,” Severa muttered. “Both my parents were drafted as well. Hell, Inigo’s whole family was drafted, even Lucina.”

Inigo’s face twisted in discomfort. “It’s one thing that she refuses to train with us unless forced…but to avoid us entirely is…unhelpful for all.”

“I don’t think ‘dragging her ass out’ is the answer, however,” Owain replied. “Maybe we could go up—OW!” He was interrupted by Morgan, who thwacked him across the shins with the flat of her blade. “What gives, Morgan?”

The little mage grinned wickedly. “Hurry up and raise your weapon before I hex your face shut.”

“You get more and more like your mother every day,” Owain replied, rubbing his leg sulkily. Morgan chuckled darkly in reply and he grimaced. “That wasn’t a compliment, you know.”

oOoOoOo

The army set out a fortnight later amid sobs, waving handkerchiefs, and well-wishes. Lissa clung to Maribelle, promising her best friend that she’d join her if necessary and that Brady would be well taken care of. Maribelle kissed her cheek before being helped on her horse by Sully, who looked disgusted by the whole ordeal. “Stop being so damned dramatic,” she complained loudly to the crowd. “We’ll be back before you even miss us. This is a damned good group of soldiers. Except you, Vaike.”

“Hey!” Vaike protested. The other soldiers laughed and Maribelle eyed him with great distaste.

Lissa put a hand up on her son’s shoulder, as much for his comfort as her own. Everywhere he looked, his friends were bidding their parents goodbye. Miriel was calling out last minute reading assignments to Laurent as she rode past on the back of Sully’s horse. Inigo and Brady were clearly using each other as shields to hide tears. Lucina tugged her little brother away from the priest-in-training and into her arms for a hug, telling him to be brave and protect his aunt. Kjelle looked unfazed by the whole ordeal and wished her parents luck wholeheartedly. In an odd show of maternal affection, Tharja pulled both her daughters into her arms and held them for a moment before walking briskly away. As Cordelia and Frederick rode by, Severa refused to look and remained rigid, face red and stuck in a scowl.

Cynthia was openly crying into her father’s cowl. He offered her caramels, but she refused and buried her face deeper. Sumia hovered nearby, holding her pegasus’ reins with one hand and stroking her daughter’s pigtails with the other. Owain wanted to go to her, but remained with his mother. This wasn’t a pain he could save her from, especially when his own heart was aching. Henry had been near the front of the marching line and had stopped to kiss his wife and make his son laugh with terrible, ribald puns. Lissa had finally chased him away, flushed and laughing through her tears. “What a ridiculous man!” She sighed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

Once the line of soldiers had passed through the front entrance of Ylisstol and the gate had been shut behind them, those left behind returned to their homes to begin the long, cold process of waiting for their loved ones’ return.

oOoOoOo

 

**Second Prince’s Tent, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Plane**

Odin woke suddenly from a deep sleep and blinked wildly in the dark. Something or someone had jabbed him sharply in the side, pulling him from an unpleasant dream. As soon as his eyes adjusted enough to make out the figure kneeling at his side, he shoved his hand under his pillow and brandished the dagger he kept there. At the sight of the steel glinting in the moonlight streaming through seams in the tent walls, the figure gasped and shuffled backwards. The gasp was…familiar. “Elise?”

Her customary twintails had been loosened for the night and her hair hung loose down her back. “Watch where you’re swinging that knife, dummy!” She whispered.

Odin turned and glanced at Leo and Niles, with whom he shared a tent. Leo was snoring softly in his bed and Niles was asleep in his cot by the tent flaps. Odin sat up in his own cot and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Is something amiss?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Elise explained. “Keep me company until I get sleepy!”

"What? Why me?”

“Why not you?”

Odin couldn’t argue with that logic. After another glance at his tent mates, he rubbed his face vigorously and nodded. “Alright, alright.” He sleepily rolled out of his cot and slipped into his sandals.

Elise stared at him. “You should probably put on a shirt. It’s a little windy outside.”

He looked down at his pale chest and quickly reached for a tunic and cloak. His torso was normally exposed in his mage robes, but it felt somehow wrong to be so bare in front of a princess. She continued to watch him until he was fully dressed, then she led the way out of the tent and into the crisp night air. Once they were far enough away from the tent to not disturb its inhabitants, he turned to his companion. “Did you draw up battle plans against the horrors of insomnia or are we just going to follow our whims to pass the time?”

In the full moonlight he could see that she was wearing a plain, short night tunic over a pair of loose leggings. She looked smaller and yet older without all her ribbons and bows. Thought he’d never noticed before, tonight he could see her resemblance to Camilla in the curve of her cheek and the way her nose pointed at the end. “I didn’t have any particular plans,” she replied sheepishly. “I just came outside and thought the stars were pretty and wanted to share them with you.” She smiled winningly at him and he looked up, escaping her eyes. The stars _were_ bright tonight. “Maybe if you tell me another story I’ll feel more like sleeping.”

“Ah, yes, once you’ve tasted the splendor of Odin Dark’s stories, you’ll always come back for more!” He chuckled, pleased. “Let’s find a spot to sit where the grass isn’t wet.”

Elise grinned. “Yeah! Let’s go further into the Nohrian section. I don’t like the way the Hoshidan ninja are always watching.”

At her words, Odin flicked a glance at Corrin’s treehouse and saw a figure crouched in the branches. Between Saizo, Kaze, and Kagero, someone was always on guard at night. “There’s a hill over by the West gate that’s hidden from view by the armory. I’ll show you.”

As soon as she saw the little hill, Elise declared that it was perfect and flopped on her back in the soft grass. Odin sat a few feet away. “Why are you so far away?” Elise asked, pouting. “Do I smell bad or something?”

No. She smelled floral, probably due to whatever was put into the ladies’ bath that night. Odin looked around and nervously scooted closer. It wasn’t his character to be socially anxious, but there was something about being outside at night alone with his Lord’s little sister that felt taboo. She appeared to have no such reservations, though, for she was happily supine in the grass, gazing at the sky. When she noticed him looking, she patted the spot next to her. “Lay down and tell me a story!”

The feeling of wrongdoing increased as he eased himself onto his back beside her. “What does your soul desire to hear tonight?” He asked, staring straight up.

She considered for a moment before making her decision. “Tell me more about the Pegasus Knight.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did she have as many siblings as I do?”

Odin shook his head. “No. She’s her parents’ only child.”

“Did she have kids of her own?”

“Definitely not. She’s only twenty-three.”

Elise scrunched up her face in confusion. “I thought this happened millennia ago. How can she still be close to my age?”

“Uh,” Odin stalled. “Don’t think about it too hard.”

The princess smiled at the sky. “I guess you wouldn’t be Odin Dark without your mysteries, hm?” She didn’t give him time to answer before continuing. “Does she have a lover?”

“…I don’t know how to answer that.”

His unusual answer caused her to turn her head to look at him. “What does that mean?”

He swallowed before replying. “It’s just complicated. I don’t know the answer.”

“Have _you_ ever had a lover?”

“Of course! I’m not hopeless like Laslow.”

She continued to watch his expressions. “Do you have one now?”

A breeze blew, ruffling the hair on his forehead. He was silent for a moment. “Not in this plane of existence,” he finally answered.

His answer was deeply unsatisfying. “Is that a no?” Elise asked, frowning. When he didn’t respond, she asked another question. “Are you…still in touch with the Pegasus Knight?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. She’s far, far away. Even the darkest magic couldn’t reach her.”

Elise examined his face for a bit, then turned back to look at the stars. “The closest thing I’ve ever had to a lover was a servant boy who kissed me on the stairwell when I was fifteen. He was training to be a squire.”

“Is he in the Nohrian army now?”

“No. Another servant saw what happened and told Father. He had the boy executed the next morning.”

 Odin’s eyes widened and it was his turn to look at his companion. “That’s horrible!”

“Not really. Camilla has way worse stories.” The wind blew again and she shivered, crossing her arms over her chest.

The blankness in her eyes pained Odin. He’d seen that look before—the look of someone stuck in memories they couldn’t erase. When she shivered again, he spread his cloak out to the side and beckoned her closer. “Come closer and use my cloak. I’d rather not explain how you got sick to milord and Sakura.”

She laughed and scooted so their sides were touching, then pulled his cloak over her exposed arms. “It’s just midnight conversations. Totally normal.”

“Do you often come out at night to commune with the stars?”

"Not really.”

Her warmth seeped through the side of his tunic, nullifying the chill of the astral planes. He slowly relaxed and studied the stars overhead. They looked the same as they did in Ylisse and Nohr and he wondered if they were an illusion created by the astral dragons. Were these the same stars his mother saw?

For a moment he felt lost and horribly homesick, then Elise shifted at his side and he remembered where he was and why he was here. The princess’ pale face tilted up to look at him. “Your heart is thumping really hard. Are you alright?”

She’d noticed? Was she that close? “It’s just…” How could he explain this? “Something about the stars tonight makes me feel…strange.”

“Is it a good strange or a bad strange?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, until you’re sure, you don’t have to look at them.”

He closed his eyes, blocking them from view. Without his sight, he could feel the chill more keenly and hear the wind rustling the branches of the sakura trees Orochi had planted around camp. If he concentrated, he could hear Elise’s soft breathing near his shoulder. Her head was flush against his arm and her long hair tickled his wrist. He stretched and flexed his fingers and was shocked to feel them brush against something warm and soft—Elise’s hand. A jolt of electricity shot through his stomach and he blinked in surprise. How long had it been since he’d felt like this? Elise shifted barely perceptibly and her pinky came to rest against his. Moments passed and the silence was thick.

Whatever had shifted was still hanging in the air when he walked her back to the tent she shared with Sakura, Effie, and Hana. When she bade him goodnight, he didn’t know how to respond. “I hope your dreams are pleasant and your sleep remains unmolested,” he offered.

She made a face at him. “Speaking of that, I’m sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night. That was pretty selfish of me, huh?”

“Pay it no mind,” he said, grinning. “I live to serve. No one has ever respected my sleep, anyway, so why would you start now?”

Guilt lapsed into merriment on the princess’ face and she winked at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Odin Dark.”

The sun would be up in a few more hours, but Odin didn’t miss his lost sleep. The night air, though chilly, was refreshing, He felt strangely invigorated, a feeling that was usually only sparked by the naming of a newly forged weapon. Maybe now he could finally put a name to his pose of power. _Excendiary Truestance. The Wailing Mark of the Exalted Limb._ No, that was too long. No one would stick around long enough for him to finish saying it. _Unilluminated Shadowheart._ These were good; he should write them down so he would remember them in the morning. He had to hide his journal well, though, or Laslow would find it again and make that annoyingly superior face. He was so caught up in his thoughts as he lay back down on his cot that he didn’t realize his absence had been noticed by his tentmates.           

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two weeks of exams at grad school, so I've been pretty much out of my mind with stress. 
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took so long but I made it extra lengthy in penance! I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!


	5. There is a 0% Chance Takumi Doesn't Hate You

Cynthia was always either with Owain, Lissa, or Morgan, and it was months before Owain realized she was terrified to be by herself. She still refused to learn a weapon, but she joined her friends in the sparring pitch every afternoon to watch and read books. Severa grew more and more annoyed every day with her pacifistic attitude until it exploded in the form of a verbal and physical scuffle. Brady came running to Inigo and Owain, saying that Severa had taunted Cynthia until the latter snapped and socked the other girl in the face. They ran to the courtyard to find the two teenaged girls rolling on the ground with each other’s hair in their hands and venom spewing from their mouths.

Severa was far more damaged than Owain expected by the time the girls were pried apart. Cynthia may not have any knowledge of weapons, but she apparently had strength and reflexes in spades. She continued to struggle against Owain’s hold on her until he put her in a partial headlock. “She called me a coward!” She spat, bright copper hair undone and sticking out at odd angles like an orange halo.

“It only hurts because you know it’s true,” Severa said, hanging limply in Inigo’s arms. Her right eye was beginning to puff up and she had several bloody scratches on her neck, face, and arms.

“That’s enough out of you,” Inigo sighed. “Let’s go find a healer that hopefully isn’t Aunt Lissa.” He corralled the brunette away, but she continued to stare daggers at her opponent over his shoulder.

Cynthia stopped struggling as soon as she was gone. Instead she turned into Owain’s chest and burst into angry tears. “I’m n-not a coward!” She sobbed. “Why do I have to fight to be strong?”

Owain patted her back awkwardly. “Severa’s just…she doesn’t…I dunno.” He couldn’t find the right words to comfort her. “Don’t take anything she says to heart. You should, you know, be who you want to be.”

“…thanks,” Cynthia said into his shirt. She sniffled and wiped her nose, then jerked away and gasped. “Gods, my nose is bleeding! I got it all over you…I’m so sorry!”

The front of the boy’s shirt was streaked with blood. He looked down at it and laughed. “Honestly…fighting Severa the she-devil like that…I’m impressed that’s all the damage you’ve got.”

Cynthia cracked the first smile he’d seen in months.

oOoOoOo

The war wasn’t over by Midwinter, nor by the time the first buds of spring began to pop through the snow. Lissa had stopped telling the children the updates from the front lines aside from assuring them everyone was hale and healthy, which, naturally, led to the younger generation speculating that things weren’t going as well as could be hoped.

Owain watched his mother’s face every time she read a letter from his uncle or Robin, just to see how bad the contents were. Some letters were grimmer than others, but he always felt the lifting of a veil of anxiety after she finished one and sighed in relief. “Everyone is safe. I think the next update will have good news,” she’d say every time, stuffing the letter back in its envelope. Owain believed her.

A letter arrived one day, however, that shattered his illusions.

Lissa’s face brightened for a moment as she read the beginning lines. “They’ve chased the Valmese back to their own continent! We’re no longer under any threat of invasion!” She leaned over the table in Chrom’s study and high-fived her son. “There’s still some clean-up left to be done. Let’s see…” She continued scanning the letter, her face growing darker with every line until she stopped entirely and put a shaking hand to her mouth.

Panic gripped Owain’s chest and he moved closer. “Mother?”

Lissa slowly looked up from the paper and reached out, taking her son’s hand. “Owain, please go find something to do for a little while.”

“What happened? What does the letter say?”

“I don’t want you to panic and I don’t want you to cause your friends to panic either.”

His heart felt like it was thumping a hole in his chest. “Well, it’s too late for that. Just tell me…I won’t tell anyone. Promise! Is it Father? Is he okay?”

Horror was simmering behind his mother’s eyes, though she tried to hide it. “Son…we’ve had casualties.”

Owain’s mouth went dry. “…Who?”

“Ricken…and Sumia. They found their bodies, but Sumia’s pegasus is missing.”

Ice flooded his stomach and he gripped the back of a chair tightly. Ricken often rode on the back of Sumia’s steed and fired lightning bolts down into the enemy ranks. She must have been shot down. Grief rose like bile in his throat, but not for himself.

Cynthia.

It wasn’t fair. Why did it have to happen to the most peace-loving, fragile-hearted, gentle soul of them all? He thought back to the way her nose dripped blood after she fought Severa and his eyes filled with tears. Why couldn’t life leave her alone? Why her?

Lissa saw her son’s eyes sparkling and held his hand tighter. “Please don’t tell her, Owain. Please. Let me handle this. I’ll…I’ll find a way to tell her properly. _Please_ , son.”

Owain nodded slowly.

oOoOoOo

Lissa hesitated for a day, but by the time she’d found the words to say to the children, it was too late.

A shadow passed over the courtyard where the children were studying the day’s lessons and Cynthia immediately recognized the shape. “A pegasus!” She yelled, pointing to the shadow in the sky. Sunshine filled her face and she laughed aloud. “Severa! It must be one of our mothers! Come on, let’s follow it!”

Severa rolled her eyes and muttered some unkind words that she probably didn’t mean, for she followed close on Cynthia’s heels as they made their way to the front lawns of the castle. Pegasi were used to landing in the soft grass so their riders could lead them to the stables around the side. People poured out of the front door of the castle to see what was happening, including Lissa, who looked like was going to vomit.

“It’s Avis!” Cynthia cheered. “It’s my mother’s! It’s…” The horse hit the grass hard and whinnied in pain. “Avis, what’s wrong?” The smile dropped from her face. “Where’s Mother? Why are…you…” She slowed to a halt, staring at the animal. Avis was covered in blood, but the only wounds it had sustained were two arrows to the left wing that didn’t account for the amount of blood on the pegasus’ rump and saddle. The pegasus walked toward her, limping on one of it’s front hooves. As it got closer, a scrap of torn lilac cloth became visible, hanging from one of the saddle buckles. Owain recognized it as the same material as the skirt of Sumia’s battle armor.

Lissa slowly approached Cynthia, who had turned to look, wide-eyed and helpless, at the others gathered around. “Cynthia…” The princess began, tears already in her eyes. “I was coming to find you…”

Cynthia backed away until she bumped into Avis, who whickered. “No,” She said, as if she could ward off whatever she was about to hear.

“Your mother…Sumia was killed during a battle,” Lissa said, holding the letter in her hands.

“F-father?”

“He’s alive, but he can’t return right now.”

Cynthia slid to the ground, face frozen in shock. Her expression didn’t change when Lissa pulled her into her arms or when she was led away into the castle. Owain started to follow, but Inigo stopped him. “Let her be for now,” the young prince mumbled. “There’ll be time later.”

oOoOoOo

Owain was awoken in the night by the sounds of thumps coming from outside his window. The thumps were comfortingly familiar and he recognized them as the rhythmic sounds of a practice weapon hitting the wooden posts in the training pitch, which was close to his family’s quarters. The frame of his bed squeaked as he climbed out of it and walked across the stone floor to the window. He couldn’t see the pitch from his room, but he could hear the sounds even more clearly now.

After quickly dressing, he quietly left his family’s rooms and descended the multiple staircases to the ground level. The guards didn’t bother him as he traversed the hallways leading to a side door to the outside. Once outside, he shivered a bit and regretted not bringing a housecoat. The thumping continued and he walked towards the sound, curious and apprehensive.

In a corner of the training yard, a lone figure stood, repeatedly beating a post as hard as they could with a training spear. The blows were clumsy but strong and Owain knew immediately who it was. “Cynthia!” He whispered. His words seemed as loud as thunder in the still, cold air.

She jerked in surprise and turned toward him, still holding the spear. Her face was swollen with tears that were still streaming down her cheeks. Her bright orange hair was undone and tangled from the activity. Owain’s chest clenched and he approached her respectfully, keeping a bit of distance between them. The two looked at each other and fresh tears leaked from Cynthia’s eyes. “What are you doing?” Owain finally asked.

Cynthia sniffed and wiped her nose on her arm. “Training,” she replied dully.

“Why? You hate fighting.”

Cynthia’s grip tightened on the spear. “Severa was right. I _am_ a coward. I thought if I ignored the war and focused on the future, the people I love would always come back to me.” Her lips quivered as she pressed them tightly together. “But that was…just a dream, wasn’t it?” A small hiccup escaped her and she sniffed again.

“You’re not--” Owain protested, but she cut him off.

“Severa was right about everything. The only way I can protect the people I love is with my own two hands!” She sobbed, clutching the weapon tight to her chest. “M-Mother must have been ashamed of me when she died.”

Owain wrapped his arms around the girl and squeezed her as tight as he dared. “That’s not true!” He declared. “Your mother was proud of you and your father still is! You kicked Severa’s arse! You’re incredible!”

Cynthia dropped the spear and brought her arms up around Owain’s back. She sniffled for a moment, and then cried uncontrollably into his embrace. “Mother…” she sobbed, barely able to speak. “I’ll become strong! J-just you watch! I’ll be someone…you can be proud of…Mother…”

 Owain held her tighter under the pitiless stars.

oOoOoOo

 

**Pegasi paddock, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Hoshidans were an odd bunch with their stiff manners and unfathomable expressions and predilections for saying the opposite of what they meant. Nohrians were coarser, louder, and occasionally downright grumpy, but you always knew where you stood with them. If they thought you were full of dragon dung, they told you so without a trace of shame. The proud, tanned Hoshidans were (with the exception of Prince Takumi) unfailingly polite to their friends and allies; it was impossible to know their true opinions of you. Even if you asked them, they would (again, with the exception of Prince Takumi) smile and fib comfortably to your face.

Perhaps this was why Odin liked the youngest Hoshidan prince the best out of the four siblings. When he called you _Nohrian Scum_ at supper for the fifth time that week, it left you with the warm glow of the dependable knowledge that he really, truly meant what he said from the bottom of his heart. There was no confusion or guesswork—he detested you and you _knew_ he detested you and everyone was on the same page.

Princess Hinoka was one of unreadable ones. Now that she had decided to trust the Nohrians at least as far as she could throw them, she had changed her persona from vengeful haughtiness into a sort of cheerful war hawk. She smiled at the Nohrian royals and their retainers, but the expression didn’t fully reach her eyes.

Odin noticed her watching him as he passed the paddock where the airborne units were preparing their mounts before battle. He was surprised to see Scarlet, Camilla and Beruka’s dragons among the Hoshidan pegasi; he’d have thought that the two species would have to be separated but it seemed that they got along well as long as their masters did the same. Hinoka was tying little bits of paper onto her pegasus’ mane, but she stopped as Odin walked past, giving her a wide berth. “Oi, Odin Dark!” She called, trotting over to the fence to wave at him.

“Princess Hinoka,” He replied, halting and blinking at her, confused. “What can I, Odin Dark of the forbidden netherworlds, do for you?”

“You’re Prince Leo’s retainer, are you not?”

“That I am.”

She leaned an elbow on the wooden fence and looked him over. “Forgive my rudeness but you’re not as talkative as your counterpart.”

Odin grinned. “By ‘counterpart’ I assume you mean Niles and you would be correct. He and I may be brothers in bloodshed, but we are cut from rather different cloth. I hope he hasn’t been hassling you.”

She shook her head. “No, not really. He does have a lot to say, though. I’d heard you and he were the chatterboxes of the Nohrian army, but you’ve never spoken to me outside of battle.”

Her eyes were curious and Odin realized she must feel slighted. “Please accept my apologies, Princess Hinoka!” He said quickly. “I meant no offense, nor did I intend to be aloof. Did you want a famous Odin Dark Tale? I’m sure I could regale you with a quick one while we wait for our marching orders. Perhaps you’d like to hear about the time I traveled across a foreign land to bring home a young man ailing from a grievous case of resting--”

Hinoka barked a short laugh. “No, forgive me, I did not mean to insinuate that I was displeased with you or your lord. I’ve seen you conversing with Corrin and Sakura and I merely wondered if I’d upset you in some way.”

“Perish the thought!” Odin replied, dramatically posing. “Lady Corrin is our leader and tactician and I thought she could better use me if she knew my abilities. As for Princess Sakura…”

“She’s good friends with Princess Elise, so it’s only natural that she’s come to trust you.” Hinoka finished. “Anyone who is important to Princess Elise is important to Sakura as well.”

When did he become so connected to Elise that they shared friends by association? “I think you overestimate our companionship. I’ve simply been a servant of the royal family for enough years that I’m like a cool, mysterious uncle to the young ones.”

“Aren’t you only a year older than Prince Leo?”

“Er…a very young, cool, mysterious uncle.”

Now Hinoka’s smile reached her eyes, which glinted with mischief. “Is that how it is?”

“If you ask Lady Elise, I’m sure she’ll agree.”

“I _have_ asked her.” Hinoka pointed out.

“As I said…er, you have?” Odin asked, surprised. “And, er, what did she say?”

Hinoka shrugged. “Nothing important.” She straightened and held out her fistful of paper tabs. “If you help me affix these to Fuyu, I’ll tell you.” The offer was tempting but Odin hesitated, glancing at the mount behind the princess. Hinoka followed his eyes and frowned a bit. “…are you frightened of pegasi, Odin?” She asked.

Odin flushed. “I wouldn’t say I’m _frightened_ , no. I just…am not fond of them, particularly in battle.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

Odin scrabbled for words, wishing the subject would change. “They’re…easily shot down. It makes me uneasy.”

Hinoka’s posture shifted as she became defensive. “In the hands of inexperienced riders, perhaps.”

Odin pressed his lips together and his expression hardened. “The skill of the rider is not the issue.”

“Like hell it isn’t!” The redheaded princess shot back, scowling. “How many Hoshidans do you hear of getting shot out of the sky?”

This exchange was getting out of hand and, as the lower rank of the two, Odin knew it was his place to apologize and avoid shaming his lord. “I’m out of line, Princess. For the second time in this conversation, I ask your forgiveness. I’ve…had bad experiences and I’m speaking out of bias.”

Hinoka softened a little. “I, too, have my biases. You’ve flown a pegasus before, then?”

“Not myself, no, but I was close with someone who did.”

The question hung heavy in the air, so Hinoka asked it. “What happened to them?”

“She was shot down by a sniper.”

The princess grimaced. “I’m sorry. I can understand your reservations.”

Odin didn’t wish to leave the conversation on such a dour note, so he pointed to the slips in her hand. “Are those traditional Hoshidan war decorations? I’ve seen them hanging from Hoshidan katanas as well.”

“No, they’re charms for safety in battle. Orochi and Hayato made them.” Glad for the change of topic, Hinoka held the strips out for him to see. They were actually made of a stiff fabric and were decorated in colorful characters Odin couldn’t read. “I don’t know if they work, but I guess you could call them a tradition of sorts.”

“I’m certain that if they work, it’s mostly because of your dedication to your training,” Odin said, shamelessly trying to compliment the princess.

She smiled a real smile and pressed one of the charms into his hand. “Let Orochi and Hayato’s prayers protect you as well, Odin Dark. I’m glad we got to speak.”

He closed his fist around the fabric and returned her warm expression. “This is too good a gift for me, but I accept it gratefully.”

“Even young, cool, mysterious uncles need protection from the gods now and then,” Hinoka replied, chuckling. “I’ll see you later.” She took the rest of the charms and jogged back to her pegasus.

The kindness of the gesture left Odin cheerful as he wound through the rest of the mounted troops to find his liege. As he expected, Leo and Niles were waiting for him outside the horse paddock. Leo was already astride his mount, looking sour. “I’d begun to think you’d forgotten your allegiance and fled.” the blonde prince snipped. “If Elise weren’t here, I’d have asked Camilla to send Selena and Beruka for your head.”

Beruka would have had it mounted on a pike. Odin shuddered. “I told him you were just running a little behind,” Elise piped up, riding to Leo’s side. “He worries too much.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Leo growled. “I was righteously irritated at his tardiness.”

“Milord is as coy as ever,” Niles said playfully. “I can only pray he would be as concerned about _my_ whereabouts were I to shirk my duties.”

Leo sniffed disdainfully. “I’d think little of it and hire a retainer with a better attitude.”

“Ouch!” Niles grinned like a cat.

Digging his heels into his horse’s side, the prince trotted towards the tent where Corrin and the crown princes were discussing tactics. “You two stay right where you are. If I come out and you’re gone, I’m going to dismiss you both.”

His retainers tried not to snicker as he rode away, head held high from his empty threats. Elise shook her head at his back, amused. “Let’s hide behind Effie’s armor,” Niles suggested.

Odin ignored his partner and walked up to Elise’s horse. “Are you full of the flames of the abyss?” He asked the princess, patting her mount’s nose. “This is your first opportunity to show everyone how much power you’ve been able to summon over the past weeks.”

Elise grinned, but her knuckles were white on her reins. “You know it! I’m gonna blow the enemy right off the battlefield! I’ve been using Kaze’s shuriken to improve my accuracy and I hit the target almost seven out of ten times yesterday!”

“Excellent work, my protégé! You’ll surpass me yet!”

Niles gritted his teeth. “Seven out of ten, you say? Remind me where you’re stationed so I can stay far away.”

Odin scowled at him. “You wouldn’t remember if she told you—you’ve been distracted since Corrin reclassed into a Nohrian Noble.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t appreciate the way the black armor embraces her luscious derriere like a lover,” Niles replied. “Truly one of Nohr’s best creations, right after Camilla’s breastplate.”

“You make me sick.” Odin informed him.

Elise, who was now quite red in the face, cleared her throat. “Anyway! What have you got there, Odin? Is it a secret message? Who is it from?”

Odin looked down and remembered the charm in his hand. He lifted it for the two to see. “As much as I’d like to say it is a message of arcane importance, it is actually a Hoshidan charm for safety.”

“Wow!” Elise cheered.

The heat of his hand was starting to smear the characters on the fabric, so he carefully tied it to the mane of Elise’s horse. “Now you have nothing to fear, for you are protected by the magic woven by Hayato’s tiny hands.”

On the other side of the crowd of mages and diviners, Hayato sneezed and scowled, suddenly irritated for an unknown reason.

Elise fingered the charm, examining the writing. “Were the Hoshidans giving these out? How did I miss it?”

“It was a gift from Princess Hinoka, actually.”

Niles’ ears perked up. “Oh?” He asked. “Is she who you’ve been sneaking out at night to meet?”

Elise and Odin froze. “W-what are you talking about?” Odin asked, laughing stiffly. 

“Don’t play dumb. Either you’ve been leaving the tent at midnight to meet someone or to take some _really_ wicked dumps. Given how long you’re gone, I assume the former.” Niles grinned impishly as the color drained from his partner’s face.

Odin spluttered. “You must’ve been cursed with some strange dreams,” he said quickly. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Niles examined his neatly trimmed nails. “To dream the same thing three times would be most unusual indeed.”

“Nuh uh! It was only twice!” Elise said, hands on her hips.

Odin facepalmed. Niles looked like his birthday had come early. “Oh~?” He drawled, dragging out the sound. “And how would you know, little Princess?”

Panic spread over Elise’s face. She looked to Odin for guidance and found none. “Um. I’ve been staying up late with, uh, with Effie! Sometimes she eats too much and can’t sleep!”

“I see.” If Niles became any more pleased, he might start purring. “Such a naughty princess, staying up so late. You should be getting your beauty sleep. I wonder if Lord Leo knows…”

Elise and Odin gasped in tandem, just as a sour voice sounded from behind Niles. “Knows what?” Leo rode back into the group, holding a sheet of parchment. “I asked you a question, so answer quickly.”

“A thousand pardons, Milord,” Niles replied. “Apparently there is a most wicked bowel virus going around camp causing Odin to stay up into the wee hours with intense diarrhea.”

Leo made a face. “Disgusting. Is this why you were late, Odin? Are you fit for battle?”

“Spare me no worry, my liege. Niles is exaggerating for effect.” Odin puffed out his chest and tried to look confident.

Narrowing his eyes, Leo looked him up and down. “Very well. Visit Princess Sakura afterwards and get some herbs.”

“Yes, my liege.”

The prince turned to his sister, who was redder in the face than ever. “What’s wrong with you? Are you falling ill, too? Shall I tell Corrin to pull you out of the battle?”

“No!” Elise yelped. “I’m just nervous! Very nervous!”

Leo stared at her suspiciously. “Stop hanging around these two, little sister. They’re bad influences.”

Elise rolled her eyes in response. Niles giggled darkly. “You flatter me, Milord.”

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, Americans!  
> I'm personally thankful for all of you guys that read and comment on my story <3


	6. In Another Life, Sakura is a Rebel Punk

Chapter Six: In Another Life, Sakura is a Rebel Punk

**Mess Hall, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

A dark fog of depression hung over the army, absorbing the warmth from the air. Elise looked around the mess hall at her companions, who were eating silently. Across the table, even Odin was holding his head low over his bowl of rice and meat. Beside him, Leo was as somber as ever and even Niles was uncharacteristically subdued. She dared not look up the row of tables at Ryoma; he was taking the loss the hardest.

Elise took another bite of her supper and thought as she chewed. She hadn’t seen Scarlet’s corpse after the sudden surprise attack a week ago, so she wasn’t haunted by visions of blood and cold, empty eyes. In a way, a small part of her wished she’d been able to see the body. At the same time, another part of her felt intensely guilty for such a wish. She was used to the mangled corpses of foes and monsters, but she’d never looked into the face of a friend and beheld the finality of death. What did it look like? What did it feel like to love someone and know that they were never coming back?

To die seemed a selfish act, though Elise knew Scarlet wouldn’t have if she could have helped it. Would she have done anything differently if she’d known how close her life was to ending? Would she have laughed more? Cried more? Spent less time training? Would she have announced to the whole army what they already knew, that she loved the eldest Hoshidan prince and wished to become his bride? Or would she have abstained, knowing how much harder it would be for Ryoma to say goodbye?

It would have been years before they could have gotten married. Who could spare time or money for a royal wedding in the midst of a war? Still, it would have been beautiful when it happened. Sakura would have tied cherry blossoms in Scarlet’s hair while Hinoka stabbed her fingers sewing a bridal hood. Elise frowned, angry. How could these wonderful visions be taken away from everyone! It wasn’t fair…!

She looked around at all the diners quietly eating their suppers. The enemy had not only taken Scarlet’s life, but the happiness and peace of the whole army as well. How would they fight on now that they’d tasted the bitterness of loss? Surely Scarlet wasn’t resting well knowing that her absence had split the souls of her friends. She was so positive…always looking to the future. Whenever the army had a setback, Scarlet would be the first to find the bright side of the situation and reassure everyone that hope was not lost. Who would look for the break of dawn now that she was asleep?

Someone had to do it. When Elise looked around, however, all she found was downturned faces and bags under eyes. The heaviness of the atmosphere pressed in on her until she felt she might scream. In a burst of courage, she pushed her chair back and stood as tall as she could. Odin, Camilla, and Sakura looked up at her curiously, but no one else paid attention until she spoke. “Excuse me!”

Every head swiveled to stare at her. “I…I have something to say, so listen up!” She said, her heart thumping in her chest. “I just…I want us all to smile again!” Faces looked back at her, some sympathetic, some annoyed, but none ready to interrupt. “I didn’t know Scarlet very well…but I know she wouldn’t want us to be sad for her forever! She would want us to remember all the fun we had together and go forward with her in our hearts. She’d want us to laugh and say something like ‘now Anankos is _really_ gonna get it!’”

Silence.

Her heart thumped harder. “Remember when her entire squadron was killed at Cheve? She cried and swore she’d punch every bad guy twice as hard from then on. She was strong and we should be strong too! That’s…that’s what she’d want.” She tried to think of what Scarlet would say in her funny Chevois accent. “Let’s double our efforts, gang! No more tears!”

When no one responded, Elise felt an intense heat rush into her face, so she scowled fiercely at the diners. “If…if no one is going to smile, then I’ll…I’ll make you smile!” She reached to the table, grabbed her plate of dessert, and brought it slowly, deliberately over her head. Xander knew instinctively what she was about to do and opened his mouth to order her down, but it was too late. “SPARKLING BERRY BLAST!” Elise hollered as she launched her pudding at Leo’s face.

The shot struck true and the diners collectively held their breath as Leo short-circuited under a coating of blackberries and streusel. A second ticked by and Elise began to think she’d made a horrible mistake, but a chair scraped nearby and Sakura stood up, trembling from strawberry head to sandaled toe. “Do-do-don’t throw f-food, Elise!” She said firmly, and then she picked up a handful of edamame and threw them as hard as she could at her best friend.

If the army was surprised at Elise, that was nothing compared to the utter shock on their faces as they beheld Sakura. Gentle, meek Princess Sakura who apologized if she made eye contact had just…what devilry was this? Elise beamed at Sakura, who was redder in the face than she’d ever been.

Across the table, Odin lobbed a fish cake over Leo’s head and into Niles’ waiting hands and the archer took aim. Oboro and Hinata glowered, murder in their eyes, but Niles only grinned wider before flicking the slimy thing straight into Takumi’s face.

All hell broke loose. “Oh, that’s IT!” Takumi bellowed, throwing his miso soup back at his attacker. Niles, who looked like a large smug cat, dodged the food, allowing it to soak Leo instead. With a howl, Oboro leapt across the table and emptied a soy sauce tray over the archer’s head. Leo reached over to slap her hand away, but upset a mug of beer in the process, spilling it into Charlotte’s lap. Charlotte bared her teeth and stood, but slipped in the beer puddle and flipped mashed parsnips into Hana’s hair. Naturally, Hana responded by taking a swing at her face, but the axe wielder slipped again and the punch just barely missed an outraged Selena’s cheek.

Elise grinned and surveyed the scene. Down the table, Keaton was rubbing gravy into a wailing Kaden’s fur, Jakob was skillfully blocking Silas’ attempts to hit Corrin with beans, and Arthur had somehow caught on fire. Effie was entirely unperturbed by the whole affair and defended herself by eating everything within a two person radius. Orochi was panicking (“This wasn’t in the cards!”) but Azama seemed to have found his inner zen as he nonchalantly slipped edamame down the neck of Hinoka’s tunic.

A hand grabbed Elise’s and she whirled to see Odin holding a bowl of mashed parsnips and laughing. “Fear no edible projectiles, Princess!” He announced, pulling her closer to his side. “I, Odin Dark, shall serve as your culinary shield!” Niles took this as a personal challenge and switched from flicking bits of fish at an apoplectic Takumi to flicking them at the youngest Nohrian princess and her bodyguard instead. Elise screamed in delight and laughed, glad to feel the tension that had once filled the room break and fall away.

“Was this a good idea or a bad one?” She asked him as a rice ball exploded against her shoulder.

Odin deftly batted away a fish eye with a ladle. “The voices of the nether world are lost in the clamor of battle, I’m afraid.”

“What does that mean?”

“It, uh, it means I don't know. But I, for one, prefer this chaos to silence. It feels more normal. I fear you’ve permanently damaged my noble liege, though.”

Elise looked over at Leo, who was weakly attempting to dab soup off his shirt while ignoring the other stains that were rapidly accumulating. “Aw, he’ll be alright. This is good for him. Lookit, he’s got seaweed in his hair!” She giggled and ducked to the other side of Odin to avoid an edamame shower.

Down the table a bit, Felicia was trying to put out Arthur’s flames with a jug of water, but she tripped over a fork and launched the jug’s contents across the whole table. Elise closed her eyes in anticipation of the cold water, but Odin pulled her against his chest and turned so his cloak was soaked instead. “A sneak attack! The enemy is wily, but Odin Dark is wilier!” He held her tight with one arm and continued swatting away Niles’ attacks with the other.

Pressed against his chest, Elise was conflicted. She wanted to push away and join back in on the fun, but at the same time she found her current situation not altogether unpleasant. He’d clearly been in the baths before dinner, because he smelled like yuzu and ginger. She was thankful he was in a training tunic and not his usual outfit or her face would have been smushed against his bare skin. Why were Nohrian mages so naked?

He twisted her away from an attack again and she giggled, ignoring the pain of bumping her nose against his chest. He was taunting Laslow now; she could hear the rumble of his voice through his tunic. His arm remained hooked around her back, holding her firmly against him and out of harm’s way. Her arms dangled at her sides and she wondered if she could use his movements as an excuse to hold onto him tighter. Maybe…ah! Odin twisted again and she took the opportunity to grasp the front of his tunic with both hands. He didn’t look at her, but his arm tightened around her shoulders.

“ENOUGH!” A voice roared, cutting through the shrieks and laughter like a blade. The noise ceased and the soldiers all nervously turned to look at the speaker, Xander. “Look at the food you’ve all wasted. Every bite here is food that could have been put toward energy for training. I hope you’re ashamed of yourselves.”

The following silence must have brought Odin back to his senses, for he shoved Elise away all of a sudden and took a step back. Elise blinked at the sudden influx of light and found Xander glaring with her with palpable disappointment. His expression was terrifying despite the fact that he was unintentionally wearing a small dish like a hat. “Except for Elise, Odin, and Niles, I want this hall vacated. Now.”

Everyone whose names were lucky enough not to be called scrambled for the exit, but Ryoma caught Sakura and Takumi by their collars. “You two are not going anywhere. Oboro, you’re staying as well.”

oOoOoOo

“Really, our Lords have smiled upon us in mercy,” Odin said, carefully sweeping edamame into a pile. “Cleaning duty tonight and no breakfast tomorrow is a small price to pay, all things considered.”

The angry glares Takumi and Oboro shot at him were so blistering that he recoiled a step. Niles chuckled at the sight, hoping to goad one of them into a fight. When it didn’t work, the archer shrugged. “I’d clean every night if I got to see Milord Leo doused in soup more often. I think whoever threw it was aiming for me, but their aim was terrible.” He clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes over to Oboro, who looked positively murderous. “Oh my…someone missed some berry juice over here when they were scrubbing…I do believe that would be _you_ , Prince Takumi.”

“Shut your mouth, filth!” Oboro finally snapped, nearly breaking the handle of her mop in two. “It’s a disgrace to have Prince Takumi clean beside the likes of you.”

Niles’ grin widened. “I _do_ love it when you talk dirty to me, Oboro.”

Takumi put a hand on his retainer’s shoulder, preventing her from jumping the archer. “Don’t bother, Oboro. They have no conscience. Just look what they’ve done to my sister!”

Sakura was scrubbing a table, her eyes wide like an owl’s. Elise, standing beside her, patted her head gently. “I’ve ne-ne-never g-gotten in t-t- _trouble_ before…” The Hoshidan princess said weakly. “Do you think Ryoma-nii hates me n-now?”

“No way!” Elise replied cheerfully. “I’ve gotten yelled at by Xander loads of times! He’s not mad—just disappointed.”

Tears sprang to Sakura’s eyes. “Th-that’s even wo-wo-wo-worse!”

“No it’s not! If you keep disappointing him, he’ll just lower his expectations! That’s my secret strategy!”

Odin laughed quietly and resumed sweeping. When he looked up again, Elise was watching him with a serious expression on her face. He motioned her over and handed her the dustpan to hold. On the other side of the hall, Niles began singing a ribald song from the Nohrian countryside and Oboro ground her teeth audibly in response. Odin shook his head and chuckled. “I was most impressed by your battle cry. It was truly an inspired title for an inspired attack.”

Elise looked at him and grinned. “Thanks! I thought of you and it just came to me.”

The things this woman said with a straight face. Odin avoided her eyes and focused on his work. What was he going to say again? It was like Elise had scattered his thoughts like dandelion fluff. _Ah, that’s right._ “If the void ever whispers a name into your ear again, be sure to tell me so I can add it to my list of Names of Power.”

She nodded, then sighed. “I really caused a lot of hassle for everyone, didn’t I? Even Sakura…” She looked at her feet. “I’m sorry that you got in trouble.”

“Milord is a generous man. I’m certain he’ll forgive us. Someday.”

Elise thumped her forehead with the heel of her palm. “Ugh. At this rate I’ll never be a proper lady like Camilla. Stupid, stupid!”

Odin thought of Camilla—the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she slew with glee—and shuddered at the thought of tiny Elise doing the same. Not to mention Niles would be even more insufferable if there were two Camillas. One was enough. “Let Camilla be Camilla and you be Elise. I think you’re perfect the way you are.”

Elise opened her mouth and shut it again. Instead of talking, she knelt down to hold the dustpan again.

oOoOoOo

As expected, Leo was waiting for Odin and Niles back at the tent the three shared. He lashed them verbally before ordering them both outside for a three-mile run. He stopped Odin before he got out the door, however, and pulled him back inside. “Odin, I don’t want you around my little sister anymore. Do you understand?”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to continue tutoring her in magic, milord. I think she could--”

“I will ask Nyx to train her,” Leo interrupted. “I’ll repeat myself only once more. I do not want to see or hear of you being near Elise anymore. Have I made myself clear?”

Odin swallowed. “Yes, Milord.”

oOoOoOo

 

**Armory, Ylisstol**

Inigo’s hands were shaking as he packed swords into a sturdy traveling case. Owain, who could think of nothing to say, turned back to his own work of sorting through staves to find the ones that were still usable. “Brady ought to be doing this,” he grumbled aloud, tossing aside a spent _Mend_. “He’s a priest. He knows more about these things than I do.”

Severa frowned at him from beside Inigo. “He’s busy packing a med tent. Shut up and do your job.”

“What are _you_ doing?” Owain asked, irritated with her tone.

“Supervising.” She replied acidly.

A loud CLANG stopped Owain from continuing the fight; Inigo had dropped a silver sword onto the stone floor. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” he muttered, kneeling to retrieve it. “I don’t think my hands grip very well in this cold shed. Severa, wouldn’t you be a doll and warm them up for me?” The young prince flashed her a brilliant smile, which she withered with a sneer.

“Heat them with your own hot air.”

He grimaced. “I was thinking something more like tea…”

“Back to work!” She snapped, then turned around and gathered an armful of weapons to sort. “I guess I’ll help you since you’re too useless to do it yourself!” Inigo smiled at her gratefully and threw a covert wink at Owain, who stifled a groan. Severa was somehow getting crabbier by the week, which was unbelievable since she was already a chore to be around on a good day. It didn’t matter, though. Owain could suffer whatever it took to make Inigo smile again.

The fact that the prince was functioning at all was a testament to his strength of will. It was only five days ago that the world as they knew it had shattered into a thousand sharp edges from the words spoken by a single pegasus rider who had landed in the castle courtyard in a panic. The soldier had all but fallen off her pegasus in her haste and looked as though she might vomit at any moment. When met in the front hall by Lissa, she dropped to her knees and broke into tears. “The Exalt…the Exalt is dead. Lord Robin is missing. The Queen and the Princess request back up.”

Lissa swayed where she stood, but remained upright. “How bad is our situation? How many soldiers should we send?”

The pegasus knight raised her chin to show a pale, trembling face. “All of them, Milady, or there’ll be nothing left to defend.”

Lissa helped the soldier to her feet, blinking rapidly as she tried to process what she had been told. “I’ll go to them as soon as we gather all we have.”

“You are the Exalt, my lady, you should stay behind and--”

Lissa cut her off softly but without room for argument. “It won’t matter who the Exalt is if there is no one left to govern. Come have a meal before you help us prepare.”

The pegasus knight nodded dumbly. Inigo stepped into their path, white as ice. “I’m going as well. If Lucina is calling for aid, I won’t stay behind. I’ll fight in Father’s stead.”

Owain grasped how truly dire the situation was when his mother closed her eyes and tilted her head in agreement. “Gather everyone who is willing and able to fight. I won’t stop you.”

Even now, days later, she still hated herself for agreeing with him. Owain could see it in her every move and in every look she gave him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. She would never send her children to war if there was an alternative.

Another blade slipped from Inigo’s trembling hands and he swore. This time, Severa knelt to pick it up for him and Owain knew better than to comment.

oOoOoOo

 Cynthia was waiting for him outside when he’d finished sorting and packing the last of the staves. “All done?” She asked.

He nodded and looked her over. “What are you wearing?”

She twirled, glad he’d noticed. “It’s my new armor! Guess who is an official pegasus knight of Ylisse now? If you guessed me, you’re right!”

Her smile was contagious and Owain grinned at her. “It suits you, though when I pictured Beano the Barbarian Queen I always imagined animal prints and bandages…”

“Instead you get Cynthia, Queen of the Air!” She twirled again, her arms out like a bird. When she stopped, she stepped closer to him. “Look, we rubbed the metal with sandpaper so it won’t reflect the sun as much.” She pointed to her breastplate. Without thinking, Owain reached out a hand and rubbed the metal to feel the texture. Cynthia immediately froze and gaped at him in shock. “Wh-where do you think you’re touching?”

As soon as he realized his mistake, he jerked his hand back. “Gah! I—sorry…w-what’s that expression for? You’ve got armor on, anyway!”

She yelped and crossed her armored arms over her chest. “I am a LADY, Owain! You can’t just touch wherever you please!” She said loudly.

Sweat beaded on Owain’s back despite the cool weather and he tried to shush her. “Shut up! You’re giving everyone the wrong impression!” In the periphery of his vision, he could see Kjelle glaring at him and he gulped. “C-come on, let’s go find Morgan…” He grabbed her arm and began to pull her towards a door into the west wing of the castle.

To his relief, she didn’t resist and instead snickered. “Ha ha! Kjelle really looked like she was gonna kill you.”

Owain groaned. “What if this gets back to my mother? You’d better take responsibility!”

She laughed harder. “I just thought I’d mess with you a little. You looked like you needed it. Whoah, careful! You almost dragged me into the doorframe!”

Still avoiding her eyes, he scanned the castle halls for Morgan. “Be serious,” he said, peeking into a room. “I’m a little stressed, is all. We’re marching out tomorrow morning. Why are you so calm?”

Clearly still uncomfortable in her new armor, Cynthia fiddled with her gloves as he poked his head into another room. “Tomorrow will come whether I like it or not. Panicking won’t help,” she voiced. “Besides, I’m more worried about what to say to my dad when I see him.”

“I’d start with ‘hello,’ personally,” Owain offered.

Cynthia frowned at him. “You know what I mean. It’ll be the first time we’ve seen each other since…”

He stopped and turned to look at her, but she was staring solidly at any place that wasn’t his pitying gaze. She’d changed a lot in a matter of months. He was used to a Cynthia that cried at the drop of a hat and clung to him. Training with the pegasus knights had changed more than her body, it seemed. A desire to hug her until she stopped frowning popped in his mind, but he thought back to the kerfuffle with her armor and pushed it away. Wicked girl. “I stand by my original suggestion,” he said finally, pulling his eyes away from a loose tuft of hair at her neck that had escaped her pigtails and caught his attention.

She followed him through the halls quietly for a while longer. “Why are you so nervous?” She asked, scrunching up her face. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“What?”

“All this.” She motioned to the sword at his belt. “Battle. Glory. The chance to save the world. Oof!” She huffed as she ran into his back; he’d stopped again without warning.

“You think I wanted Uncle Chrom to die?” He scowled at her, offended.

She waved her hands quickly. “No, no, that’s…of course not. We just…you know. We grew up hearing Vaike’s war stories about our parents and…I thought you’d be a _little_ bit excited.”

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I guess I never thought it would happen so soon. Sure, I’m totally gonna save the world and end the war and all, but…I could actually die, you know? Or Mother or Father…”

“I get it,” she said softly. “But you’re not gonna die.”

“You never know. I might go out in a blaze of glory.”

“Nah, you won’t. I’ll be with you. I’ll keep you safe,” she explained in response to his questioning expression.

Owain’s heart sped up and he felt like he’d missed a step going down a staircase. “That’s not supposed to be _your_ line,” he sputtered. “The guy’s supposed to say that.”

“Says who?” Cynthia teased as she walked past him. “Weren’t we supposed to be finding Morgan? Hurry up!”

Was she swishing her hips that way to taunt him? Since when did she have hips? Since when did he _look_ at her hips? Why was this castle so warm?

oOoOoOo

As soon as Morgan opened the door and looked at Owain and Cynthia’s faces, she refused to let them in. “I don't know what you two were doing before you came here, but I want no part of it,” She informed them flatly. “If you think I’m going to third-wheel on my best friends in my own room, you’ve got reeking boxes where your brains should be.”

Owain spluttered and Cynthia squeaked. “Th-that’s not…nothing’s going on! That’s absurd! We were just walking and talking about tomorrow.”

Morgan looked between the two of them suspiciously. “Is that so? Well, in that case, alright. I still have your bra, Cynthia, but it was too big for me. Can’t your chest stop growing?” Ignoring Cynthia choking on her own spit, she opened the door wider, eyes still narrowed. “And Owain, I needed someone to try a new hex on. It makes you uncontrollably say whatever’s on your mind. Come on in!”

Owain shook his head furiously. “Nope, no thanks. That’s quite unnecessary.”

_SLAM_. Morgan closed the door in their faces. “Get lost. You’re giving me heartburn.”

oOoOoOo

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had surgery on my wrist and couldn’t type for a while! I’m sorry this took so long to get out! I promise I’ll get back on a schedule now that I’m healing.
> 
> Happy New Years, all, and feel free to leave a review if you wanna make my day! Who do you ship more?


	7. No One Wants to Bunk with Noire

**Ylissean/Plegian Border**

“Daddy!” Cynthia cried as soon as she spotted her father’s red hair in the throng that had assembled to greet the reinforcements. She clumsily swung down from Avis, catching her foot in the stirrup on the way down and narrowly avoiding falling on her face. Gaius caught her and twirled her around, a lolly stick poking out of his tired smile.

Other parents came forward to receive their children and loved ones. Lucina walked as quickly but regally as she could to Lissa and Inigo, then gave up her attempts at maintaining her proper image and collapsed into her aunt and brother’s arms, being as much comforted by them as they were by her. While his mother was occupied, Owain searched the crowd until he found him—his father, still grinning at odd angles under snow-white hair and a dusting of crow feathers. Owain hurried forward and wrapped his arms around the man. “Have no worries, Father. I’ve come to end the war.” He said confidently.

Henry laughed and rubbed his son’s head. “Of course you have. You’re a _chirp_ off the old block! Now that you’re here, I bet your mother will let me show you some of my newest hexes! They’re ridi _caw_ lous! Nya ha!”

Groaning, Owain let his father go. “You never change, Father, war or no.”

He was nudged aside by his mother, who threw herself at her husband. “I’ve never been so happy to hear horrible bird puns,” she said, kissing all over his face. “ Do you need me to work on you? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Unfortunately I still have all my limbs,” Henry replied. “I need nothing at all now that my two favorite living people are here. Except about a pound of virgin blood for a certain hex Lucina won’t let me use. That won’t be a problem now that you’re here, Owain! You’ll give your old man some blood, won’t you?”

Owain flushed and pushed his father away, disgusted. His embarrassment only increased when both Kjelle and Sully, who were passing by, broke into raucous laughter. “Father!” He protested, covering his face.

“Don’t feel _hawk_ ward, son. I’m only teasing.” Henry said, putting his arm around Lissa’s waist. “Where are you going? Come _bawk_!”

oOoOoOo

“The Grimleal are heading to the Dragon’s Table _here_ , near Plegia Castle,” Lucina explained to the army that evening, pointing at locations on a map marked with pins. “They have the Fire Emblem and, as far as we understand, are planning to use it in a ritual to resurrect Grima.” Soft gasps from the newcomers could be heard around the fire.

Flavia nodded and crossed her arms. “Aversa is leading her own corps and they will likely be the first we face. Validar will not be far behind, though his corps will be closer in to the Table, shielding the ritual itself. We will train the new soldiers for half a fortnight, then we will march on the Table. The Grimleal will be delayed by the rockslide that has happened _here_ ,” she pointed to a road scratched with ink, “and will be some nine days from reaching the Table. Anyone have any questions?”

Murmurs echoed among the army and Lissa slowly raised her hand. When called upon, she swallowed hard. “Who killed my brother?”

Lucina looked at her shoes and Olivia moved beside her, taking her daughter’s hand. Flavia cleared her throat. “Lord Chrom was slain by an unknown assailant, likely the same one who kidnapped Robin. We have no further information at this time.”

“How was he killed?” Inigo asked from the front row, trembling in his seat.

“That’s not something you--”

“I want to know,” Inigo insisted, clenching his fist. “Tell me.”

Flavia looked to Olivia and Lucina, who nodded, and gritted her teeth as if in pain. “He was pierced through the chest by either a Rexbolt or a weapon imbued with thunder magic. He was on a seek-and-destroy mission with Robin, so he wasn’t in view of us. We found his body as we took the castle.”

Morgan spoke up from beside her sister and mother. “And what of my father? Have they admitted to taking him hostage?”

“Robin’s sword and tomes were scattered next to my father’s body, along with some of his important documents, leading us to believe he was taken by force or surprise. There was no blood, nor did we find any remains.” Lucina was speaking now, having recovered from earlier. She grimaced. “I am loth to say something like this, but for someone to overtake both my father and Robin…we must consider the option that they knew their attacker.”

Silence. Flavia tightened her lips and looked sideways at the princess. Lucina ignored her pointedly and Owain got the impression that an argument had already been fought over this information. “What are you saying?” Lissa asked finally.

“I’m saying there may be a traitor in our midst,” Lucina replied.

Lissa’s hand flew to her mouth and she squeaked, a small sound. “You can’t be serious. Who would…?”

“Someone knew Robin and Chrom were going into the castle together in advance and thus knew where to find them,” Lucina explained. “I can see no other explanation as to how our two strongest soldiers could have fallen. They shared an unbreakable bond of trust. They were all but invincible…or so I thought…” She stopped, looking down at her shoes again.

Flavia shook her head confidently. “I refuse to believe that any of our comrades could betray them. Perhaps dark magic was afoot and the assailant took the image of a member of our army, but I find the idea of treachery amongst us disgusting. We can’t lose faith in each other now—it will be our undoing.”

"But how do we know that my father was taken hostage and not killed and his body relocated?” Morgan insisted, unsatisfied.

“We have no proof…save the word of one Plegian soldier we found hiding in the cellars of the castle. When we found her, she laughed and said that it ‘didn’t matter because we have Lord Robin now’. Whether that can be trusted, I can not say, but it fits the rest of the evidence we have.”

An almost visible aura of anger was rolling off of Tharja and her daughters. The other soldiers scooted away unconsciously, leaving a small ring of empty bench space around the three. “Did she say anything else?” Morgan asked.

“No, she would say no more,” Tharja answered her daughter. “I interrogated her myself. I assure you, had she more to say, she would have said it. She was put to the sword when I was finished.”

The ill look on Flavia and Lucina’s faces at the memory as well as the glee on his father’s face led Owain to cringe at the thought of Tharja’s interrogation. Tharja was beautiful and horrible in the same way a crystal vial of poison is beautiful and horrible. If ordered to describe the Plegian dark mage, ‘merciful’ and ‘compassionate’ would be at the bottom of the adjective list, far below ‘pants-shittingly terrifying’ and just above ‘cute’.

“Are we doing anything to find him?” Morgan asked, anxiously stroking the end of her long, raven hair.

Lucina’s face was soft with understanding as she looked at the younger girl. “We’re doing what we can. We have not left him to his fate, I promise. We think we have the best chance of saving him by overcoming Aversa and Validar at the Dragon’s Table.”

Morgan’s lips trembled, but she nodded sharply. Beside her, a terrified Noire took hold of her cloak, a small gesture of solidarity. Tharja remained unmoved, still as a statue. Lucina announced that all further questions could be brought to her later, then began unpinning the map and rolling it tightly. The soldiers got to their feet and dispersed to various areas of camp to prepare for the night. “Are you staying in our tent, Owain?” Henry asked his son, still smiling blithely.

Owain recoiled at the thought. “I’d rather die than bunk with you two old lovebirds,” he replied, shuddering. “I’ll ask Inigo if we can share a tent.”

Henry chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say that!”

Owain mimed vomiting and walked away towards his best friend. “Ho, Inigo! Want to share a tent? Please don’t make me share with my parents.”

Inigo, who was standing with his mother, Lucina, Severa, and Cordelia, turned and nodded. “It would be an honor.”

“Hey! I thought you were sharing with me!” Severa interjected, scowling.

Inigo, Olivia, and Lucina all blushed in tandem. If the situation weren’t so dire, Owain might have laughed at the family trait. “Oh, my, son…” Olivia said from behind her hand. “I had no idea…!”

“W-what? No! It’s…it’s not like that!” Inigo stumbled over his words, barely able to spit them out. “S-Severa!”

“What?” Severa said, confused.

“We can’t share a tent!”

“Why the hell not?”

“You’re a lady!”

Owain snorted and Severa gave him a dirty look. “So?” She replied. “Who else am I supposed to tent with?”

Inigo was still tomato-faced. “Anyone! Literally anyone!”

“As if. Kjelle snores, Nah isn’t here yet, Noire is cuckoo in the cranium, and Morgan whispers creepy nonsense in her sleep.”

“Tent with Cynthia, then!”

“I thought she’d tent with loverboy here,” Severa said, indicating Owain, who immediately choked on his own spit.

“Definitely not!” Owain protested. “I would never! And who are you calling loverboy?”

Cordelia, Olivia, and Lucina all exchanged glances. “We seem to have missed quite a lot,” Cordelia said, sighing. “They grow up so fast.”

"I-I understand wanting to stay with your lover, but I’m not sure that would be conducive to the best rest for training,” Lucina said, looking like she’d rather not be having this conversation.

Severa nodded. “Yeah, Owain. Go make out somewhere where it’s not obvious to the rest of us.”

As Owain spluttered, Lucina frowned. “I’m talking to you and my brother as well, Severa.”

“What?” Severa gaped as the implications hit her. “Disgusting! Inigo is _not_ my lover. I just hate everyone else more than I hate him.”

Olivia sighed in relief. “Oh, I see. I know my son is charming, but I didn’t think it would happen this soon…”

“No worries, Olivia,” Severa said, patting her shoulder. “No one wants to date your son. Literally no one. Believe me, he’s asked them all.”

“Th-this conversation is over! I’m tenting with Owain!” Inigo clapped his hands over his ears. “Good night!”

As the two boys hurried away, Owain put his hands behind his head and tried to laugh his own embarrassment away. “Don’t worry—I’ve got your back, bro. Can you believe them?”

“Completely delusional,” Inigo agreed. “Especially Severa. The ladies _love_ me.”

oOoOo

Physical training and group drill exercises began the next morning with no mercy spared for the newcomers and the younger generation. Nowi, Gregor, and Nah had arrived in the middle of the night, but were present with the rest of the soldiers at dawn. Owain and his friends snuck what they thought were furtive looks at the manaketes and were surprised when they turned out to be two youthful girls, one with bright green hair and one with maroon. Both looked approximately the same age though they were mother and daughter, and all the teenagers were confused until Laurent quietly identified which was which.

“We’re putting you into smaller groups so you can focus on teamwork,” Lucina announced, looking over the second generation soldiers. “First, however, we’re going to class anyone who doesn’t have one. If you’ve already chosen a class or are a shapeshifter, stand to my right. If you have not officially chosen a class, stand to my left.”

Nah, Yarne, Cynthia, and a few others stepped to the side, leaving the rest behind. Lucina approached the unclassed soldiers and inspected them. “Inigo, I’ve seen you fight with the sword. As my brother and First Prince of Ylisse, you have the choice between mercenary and lord. Choosing lord gives you--”

“Which one has more attractive armor?” Inigo interrupted, bouncing his eyebrows up and down.

Lucina looked at him for a moment with all the sisterly disappointment she could muster, then sighed and shook her head. “Mercenary it is. We’ll talk about the lord class again in a few years when you’ve…matured.” Next she came to Severa, who frowned at her. “Your skill with the sword is my brother’s equal. How do you feel about also being a mercenary?”

“Fine,” Severa grumped, stomping over to the classed group.

“Kjelle, do you prefer swords, bows, or lances? I know you’ve trained with them all.”

Kjelle, the tallest of the girls, considered the question. “I feel most comfortable with lances. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to try the knight class, like my father. I’ve been working on making my own armor.”

Lucina nodded. “Very well. Morgan, you have trained with both swords and magic, correct?” When Morgan nodded, Lucina put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “You’d be a terrifying dark mage like your mother if you wanted. I think you would also make an excellent tactician, like your father. It’s up to you.”

“Tactician,” Morgan decided immediately, eyes sparkling.

Owain was last and Lucina considered him at length. “You’ve trained with Severa and Inigo in the sword, have you not?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you ever try magic? As the son of Lissa and Henry I’m surprised you’re not a mage prodigy like Laurent.”

Owain grimaced. “I tried one of Father’s hexes once. It worked! Well, it actually worked a little _too_ well. Mother AND Father banned me from magic afterwards. I’ve always wanted to try the dark arts again, though.”

“No,” Lucina replied, disturbed. “If your magic was too much for Henry, it’s too much for me. You’ll stay with the sword.”

“Surely you can find something more heroic for me than being a dumb old mercenary,” Owain complained, partially serious and partially curious how mad he could make Severa. “We have enough of those already.”

Lucina walked around him in a circle. “You’re long and lean. Are you flexible?”

“Sure?”

“How about a myrmidon? It’s a sword user who focuses more on skill than power. Does that suit your fancy?”

Owain brightened. “Ohoho! Perfect! Owain the Skilled, Master of the Branded Hand and Wielder of Steel!”

“…Right,” Lucina replied. She looked a little drained. “Now that everyone is classed, we’re going to do two-on-two sparring matches to see who works best with who. I’m going to divide you into two groups. One group will have six fighters and the other will have five fighters and Brady. Understood? Pair up.”

oOoOo

“It only make sense that we five were put on the same team,” Owain said breezily, throwing twigs into the campfire to watch them burn. “We’ve been training together for most of our lives.”

Severa grunted from the other side of the flames. “You idiots better not fight as bad as you did when we trained. If my pretty face gets cut tomorrow because one of you screwed up, you’re gonna regret it!”

Cynthia’s round face was taut with worry, as it had been all week. “No one’s getting cut! Don’t even say that!” She looked to Inigo for support, but he was silent.

“Honestly, with this dream team as their enemy, I feel almost bad for the Plegians,” Owain mused reassuringly. “They don’t know what’s coming their way. We have our own personal _dragon_. How cool is that?” He winked at Nah, who stared back at him stonily.

“I know we’ve only just met, but I can’t help but feel like you’re not taking this war seriously enough,” the manakete pointed out. “You’re reminding me of my mother.”

"Owain was born without sense, so being a buffoon is his natural state. But I get where he’s coming from. We’ve been practicing our whole lives for this. I’m ready to stab some Grimleal myself,” Severa explained huffily. “Maybe you don’t get it because you’ve been in the countryside all your life.”

Morgan, Owain, Inigo, and Cynthia eyed Severa suspiciously. It was rare for her to defend anyone, let alone her favorite punching bag. Either the pre-battle jitters were affecting her more than they realized, or she was deeply annoyed at the inclusion of someone she deemed a ‘stranger’ into her little family. Neither option was a good presage for the next day.

“I think you’re both right,” Morgan interjected before Nah could respond. “We feel confident in our skills, so we’re ready to use them, but Owain’s skull is also full of Spirit Dust, which makes him incapable of deep thought.”

“Oi, leave me alone! I just think it’s more heroic to laugh in the face of danger than to cower before the field of battle,” Owain explained. “Cynthia agrees, don’t you, Cyn?”

Cynthia nodded. “Absolutely! Let’s do some laughing in danger’s face right this minute! Ha ha ha!” She stood and laughed with her hands on her hips, though she was trembling all over. “Who’s with me?”

 Morgan and Owain immediately stood and laughed beside her, their fake laughs eventually becoming real ones the longer they tried. Inigo couldn’t help but chuckle alongside them and even Severa’s lips twitched into a smile. The peals of laughter rang across the campsite and broke some of the tension stretched like a string across the army. Nah, however, just watched in wistful silence.

oOoOoOo 

**Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Avoiding Elise was easier ordered than carried out. Somehow Odin’s daily habits had become intertwined with hers and he was forced to entirely rework his schedule to keep her from popping up almost everywhere he went. She didn’t take hints easily, or she noticed and ignored them, which complicated the whole business. Odin stayed hungry for four days because Elise insisted upon sitting next to him every time he went to the mess hall. If he got up and moved, she moved with him. He tried to keep his replies to one or two-word sentences, but she was content to fill the silence with her own chatter.

She started getting annoyed by the third day and pestered him with questions. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not,” Odin replied, nervously looking to see if Leo was anywhere near.

Elise frowned. “You are, too. You won’t even talk to me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, honestly. Just busy.”

“With what?”

“Dark matters.”

Her frown changed to a scowl. “You’re taking a nap under the cherry trees.”

“A _dark_ nap,” Odin insisted.

Bit by bit, her scowl fell into a pout. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

Her expression hurt and Odin wished he could just explain his predicament, but Leo had forbidden that as well. This was all very uncomfortable. He hated telling falsehoods to friends, and lying to Elise in particular was like throwing rocks at a puppy. “Nothing’s wrong,” he sighed, unable to look her in the eyes. “Please. Just…let me commune with the netherworld.”

"I’m not stopping you,” she said tartly.

He could barely get the word out. “…Alone.”

Her jaw dropped a little and she slowly stood up, clearly giving him time to retract his hurtful words. When he didn’t, she sniffled and marched away. He watched her go and brought his head back heavily against the trunk of the sakura tree. It was unfair of his Lord to ask this of him. Elise had the right to be friends with whomever she wanted, and Odin felt like he did, also. Policing relationships was absurd. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the shame churning in his chest at the memory of the pain in Elise’s eyes. This is what he needed—more shame to ruminate over when he faced another sleepless night in his cot. What a life. “Are you asleep?” A familiar voice broke his thoughts.

“I’m repairing my psychic connection with the tumultuous, unceasing past. A hero never sleeps,” he replied, keeping his eyes closed. “But if they did, it would be hard with people asking them questions.”

The voice snorted. “Why can’t you just say ‘no’ like a normal person? And what’d you do to Princess Puff? She looks like someone told her that her flower crowns look like Keaton and Sully teamed up to try to cook turnips.”

Odin laughed despite himself and opened his eyes to see Selena standing in front of him, arms folded. “I told her to go away,” he explained.

One eyebrow lifted on the redhead’s face. “That’s unlike you. Your weirdness is like a beacon. Usually you attract and adopt all the freaks in a three-mile radius.”

“Elise isn’t a freak,” Odin protested. “And I don’t attract freaks. I naturally attract those of _alternative character_.”

“This whole army is made of freaks,” Selena replied. “I think this is a good thing, though. You were spending too much time with her and it was starting to creep me out.” Her tone annoyed him, but he wasn’t in the mood to start the fight she seemed to be looking for, so he closed his eyes again. When he didn’t rise to her bait, she narrowed her eyes. “Do you like these trees?” She asked suddenly.

Odin opened his eyes once more, wary. “They calm the voices clamoring for the release of my noble, destructive blood.”

She reached up and plucked a cluster of blossoms. “I think they’re kind of nice, myself. You know who I think would like them more than either of us?”

“Who?”

“Cynthia.” One by one, Selena plucked the petals from the small pink flowers and let them flutter to the ground. “They’d make just the kind of stupid entrance she likes.”

Odin watched the petals swirl in the slight breeze and smiled, whisked away to images of sprays of flax blossoms and forget-me-nots—anything she could find along the road to throw at the start of battle. He reached out and caught one of the pink petals between his fingers. “You’re right,” he said, still smiling.

Selena also brightened in the face, a rare sight. “When this whole stupid war is over, you should gather a whole bunch and take them back to her. She’d like that.”

“Yeah,” he replied, letting the wind whisk the petal away. “She would.”

On the steps of the dais at the back of the camp, Elise sat and watched Selena and Odin laugh together over something she couldn’t hear. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two. He wasn’t telling _Selena_ to go away. Her suspicions were right—it was just her. Why? What had she done? She thought back over the past few days and combed through every interaction she’d had with her brother’s blonde retainer. Nothing stood out and she huffed in frustration. A thought occurred to her and she stiffened. Was it…was it the way she’d clung to him during the food fight? Had that made him uncomfortable?

A nervous nausea stirred in her stomach. She’d thought…the pressure and warmth of his arm around her shoulders as he blocked Niles’ projectiles…the way she could hear his heart thump against his chest…she hadn’t imagined that, had she? No way. She knew what the electric tingle in the air between two people felt like and she knew what it meant. She was Camilla’s sister, after all—she knew all about flirtations and the body language of attraction. She wasn’t as innocent as she liked others to believe. How could she be, when Camilla and Xander had had as many lovers as they had time for? She didn’t care, of course, but she _knew_.

They took lovers for the pleasure. She understood that. But how did they deal with the pain? She brought her hand up and placed it over her heart to feel the familiar beat. She didn’t want a stream of lovers—just one—and rejection wasn’t her forte. Maybe her big sisters would know the answers to her questions.

oOoOoOo

Corrin was no help. When Elise brought up the subject of friends and lovers and the handling of them, the half-dragon began sweating and put her arms in a big ‘X’. “Elise, I spent my whole life locked in a castle in the middle of godsforsaken nowhere. Do I look like someone who knows anything about love?” Her slanted red eyes were wide with terror and embarrassment at the thought.

“But you’ve got guys (and Rhajat) following you around all day,” Elise protested. “Surely you have something for me.”

Corrin shook her head. “I really don’t. I didn’t ask anyone to have… _feelings_ for me and I don’t feel like I’ve treated anyone better or like they’re more special than anyone else.”

“That’s not true. You treat--”

“Siblings don’t count!” Corrin interrupted quickly. “There’s no shame in spoiling my cute little siblings.”

Elise gave her sister a _seriously?_ look but dropped the point. “Fine. I’ll go ask Camilla.”

As suspected, Elise found Camilla in the bathhouse. “Big Sister!” She called, shucking her clothes and haphazardly throwing them in the floor of the changing room. “I have a question!”

“Oh?” Camilla said, smiling at the sight of her little sister scrubbing as fast as she could before stepping into the bath. “Big Sister is here to answer all your worries. The girls are here too, just so you know if you were planning on spilling any secrets. They won’t tell, though, will they, girls?”

Beruka and Selena were seated along the far side of the bath and both shook their heads. “Milady’s sister’s secrets are my secrets,” Beruka said solidly.

“I don’t like anyone enough to tell them anything, if that helps,” Selena offered. Her red hair was piled atop her head in a large poof and it made her look less disagreeable than usual.

Elise looked at the mercenary and was reminded of the conversation under the cherry tree she’d witnessed earlier. She wasn’t sure if she wanted her to hear what she had to say, but since Camilla swore her to secrecy, she felt better. “It isn’t really a secret,” she said, wading over next to her sister. “But don’t tell anyone! …So I guess it is a secret after all.”

Camilla’s interest was piqued and she patted the spot next to her. “Tell me all about it.”

Now that she was here, Elise wasn’t sure where to start. “Say there’s someone that…that I like spending time with. And…and all of a sudden they don’t want me around anymore. But I still want to be around _them_. And I don’t know what I did that made them unhappy with me.” She swirled her long pigtails in the water mournfully. “What do I do?”

“Did you ask him what happened?”

“Yeah, and he—wait, how did you know it was a man?” Elise asked, surprised.

Camilla chuckled indulgently. “Big Sister knows everything. I’m always watching my siblings.”

“Ugh…well, it doesn’t matter. I asked him and he said nothing was wrong.”

“And why don’t you believe him?”

“Because this is totally different than the way he was acting just a few days ago. It’s like a candle extinguished or a sword broke—he just started avoiding me one morning!”

“Oh, my. Was it a… _morning after_?”

Elise squinted, trying to understand her sister’s emphasis, then flushed when it hit her. “No! Geez! I’m not _you_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Camilla asked, amused. “I think you’re more like me than you’d care to admit. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, it’s just…it just wasn’t that! I’d tell you if it was.”

The first princess of Nohr shifted in the water, getting more comfortable. “Would you have liked it to have been?”

Elise poked out her lip, nettled. “Now you’re just messing with me!”

“I am, I admit,” Camilla admitted, laughing again. “The faces you make are simply too adorable.” She settled down, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “But I apologize. All jokes aside, why do you care so much? Do you have feelings for him?”

Ah, the question. Elise thought hard. “Yes! I do! I…I think. No, I know I do! And I know he felt the same way…at least once.” She sighed. “Maybe not now.”

“Love isn’t that fluid,” Camilla said, shaking her head. “It’s not just here one day and gone the next. If you light a fire, it still smolders even if a wind blows it out. People don’t just arbitrarily change their minds about that sort of thing.”

“You and Xander sure seem to change your minds a lot.”

“That’s completely different. I’m talking about love, not mutually beneficial companionship.”

Sage-scented water bubbled soothingly in the background. Elise tipped her chin up to watch the steam from the bath rise past the pale stone to the darkening sky. “So there’s hope?”

“Of course. Give him some space. Let him work through whatever is going on. There are a lot of things that go on in other people’s lives and heads that we can’t know just from looking at them. After a little while, try to understand him again.” Camilla played with Elise’s pigtails lovingly, twisting them and winding them gently around her little sister’s head. “Love is too important to be stifled by a misunderstanding.”

oOoOoOo

Selena approached Elise as they were dressing before it was the men’s turn to use the bathhouse. Beruka was wrapping Camilla’s hair in rags and Selena took the opportunity to speak privately to the younger woman. “Listen. I know this isn’t my business and I’m sorry in advance if I’m out of line,” she said, unspooling her own long hair from its bun. “But I think you should leave Odin alone.”

Her frankness shocked Elise, who blinked at her a few times before responding. “What? Why?” She gasped. “Are you two…?”

“Gods, no,” Selena replied, looking sickened. “Not in this life or any other. I just think he has other priorities. I’ve known him a long time, you know. And why would you want a creep like him, anyway?”

“He’s not a creep,” Elise said, clutching her towel tightly. “He’s interesting. And smart. And kind.”

“And he has enough to worry about without adding you on top of it. Look, it’s nothing against you, Princess,” Selena sighed, checking to make sure her liege was still occupied with Beruka. “Just give the guy a break and leave him alone.” She waited for argument, but Elise had nothing to say, so with a swish of her pigtails, she left to critique Beruka’s hair curling technique.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair to Noire, no one ever wants to room with me, either. I feel like that has less to do with me snapping and screaming ‘BLOOD AND THUNDER!’ at them, though, and more to do with my crappy headphones through which you can clearly hear me listening to anime soundtracks. Eh.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting!


	8. And Then Came Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm, uh...sorry about this.

**Training Grounds, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Odin narrowed his eyes irritably, expending more mental energy refusing to look over his shoulder than actually training. Kaze had amiably lent him a set of fine, sharp shuriken and he was using them to work on his aim. Somewhere behind him, Elise was also at the training grounds with Silas  _again_ , giggling and chatting lightly. She seemed to have finally taken the hint and left him alone, but she'd transferred much of her attentions to Corrin and subsequently the silver-haired knight that followed Corrin like a loyal dog.

Ordinarily, Odin had no problems with Silas, but it was beginning to annoy him to see the two together in all the places  _he_  usually was. Elise had begged Corrin to move closer to her at supper, and with her came Silas and the ever-unpleasant Jakob. The only good part about the new arrangement was that it had unintentionally moved Jakob and Takumi closer in proximity and the two were clearly close to murdering each other with utensils. Niles, Odin, Selena, Peri, Laslow, and Effie had made a bet about how long it would be until one of the two snapped and put a chopstick through the other's neck.

For whatever reason, Jakob and Leo also had a strange tension going on. Both sneered when they saw each other and made snipping remarks over their meals. This unexpectedly put Leo and Takumi on the same anti-Jakob team and now the two princes weren't sure if they were still mortal enemies or if they'd formed the most useless alliance ever in snubbing Corrin's butler. At the same time, sometimes Jakob and Leo would team up to dogpile Takumi, or Takumi and Jakob might temporarily ally to perfect a particularly scathing criticism of Leo. Selena referred to the whole affair as the Idiot Love Triangle. Niles tried to be as helpful (read: inflammatory) as possible when the trio were together to see what might happen.

As entertaining as this drama was, it didn't distract from Elise's new companion. Odin disliked having to eat his food quickly to avoid listening to Silas and Elise swap stories about when Corrin was younger. It was nice that the two had something in common to talk about. It was also irritating. If Odin was the chosen hero of the nether realms, Silas was the gods' own golden child. He helped others tirelessly, he always put Corrin's interests before his own, and he was good-looking to boot. Where were his flaws?

Odin had plenty of flaws. He was socially awkward, a daydreamer, and no one's idea of handsome, unless they had recently developed a 'gangly and uncomfortable' fetish. No one understood they way he lived his life. He did weird poses. He named inanimate objects. He told stories that went on for far too long. He used exciting, fanciful language. He kept himself distracted. All this felt normal to him, but he was reminded time and again (usually by Selena and Niles) that his 'normal' was everyone else's 'bizarre'. Silas did none of these things; he spoke in plain language and had normal hobbies, like equestrianism and kicking a ball around with friends. He looked at Odin in the same way everyone else did when they thought he was being particularly strange.

The only one who had never looked at Odin like  _that_  was Elise. She'd called him weird a number of times, but the way she said it was like his oddities were neither good nor bad, just a fact of life. Like to her, he was…normal.

Now she didn't look at him at all. Leo was pleased with how obedient and reliable his retainer had proven. That was Odin…reliable. Weird. Alone.

At least he usually had a corner of the training grounds to himself to daydream and come up with new names for new battle poses. Now Silas was encroaching on that as well. The knight knew nothing of magic, so he couldn't help Elise train. Instead the two had started doing agility drills, something new to both of them as they spent the majority of their battle time on horses instead of their own two feet. Mounted soldiers often suffered from a sudden clumsiness and loss of common sense when they fell or were knocked off their horses and Gunter had talked Corrin into implementing new training to remedy this. This training involved a lot of jumping and rolling about on the ground as if dodging blows from foot soldiers or other mounted units, so naturally Elise found it hilarious and fun.

Odin's mood soured further the louder Elise laughed. "Look how high I can jump! Soon I'll be able to jump over your horse!" She said, panting from the exercise.

"Wow! You might!" Silas replied, clapping.

Odin rolled his eyes. Arthur had to help Elise onto her own short horse; she could barely hop over a large pebble in the path. What did Silas think he was gaining by flattering her?  _Jump over a horse, my Exalted left hand_ , he thought, yanking shuriken out of the wooden posts he'd been using as target practice. His aim was off today. Perhaps the sun was too bright or the wind too strong. Whatever the reason, he didn't feel like training anymore, so he tucked the knives inside his tunic and stalked out of the training grounds.

oOoOoOo

**Bathhouse, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Niles was in an irritating mood—Odin could tell by the way he smirked when the two undressed before stepping into the steaming water of the bath. He could  _see_ the cogs cranking in Niles' head as the adventurer worked to come up with an offhand comment about his fellow retainer's body that would provoke him the most. After so many years, one might think Niles would run out of things to say about him, but if there was a flaw or oddity to comment on, he would find it. Odin sighed and leaned back, looking up at the sky studded with twinkling stars.

Hoshidans were a confusing bunch, but their baths were genius. What a great concept—relaxing in hot water after a long day. Subaki and Hinata were at the other end of the bath, chattering loudly about weapons and hair care, but the bath was big enough that conversations could be kept private. Niles finally opened his mouth and Odin braced himself to hear the newest batch of obscene observations, but the adventurer called out a greeting instead. "Oh ho, look who it is: Mr. Virtuous himself, come to mingle with the masses."

"Hullo, Niles," Silas replied, grinning and stepping into the bath. "Hullo, Odin. Care if I join you?"

"Not at all," Odin replied against his own wishes. "Be at your leisure."

The water lifted Silas' towel as he lowered himself into the bath and Odin and Niles exchanged a look, one defeated and one titillated. Odin sighed again. Of course Silas would outscore him in this category as well. Niles nudged Odin to scoot over and he protested. "Do move, Odin, we need more room for someone of Silas'  _size_."

Silas waved his hands apologetically. "No, there's more than enough room. Don't worry."

"I'm glad you're here," Niles continued. "I think you'll make a  _huge_  addition to our conversation. Odin's here, of course, but…well most people find him a little  _lacking_. Especially women."

Odin's face was already red from the heat of the bath. "Such foul lies! Odin Dark is worthy by any measure!"

Niles gave him a predatory smile. "Who's measuring? Elise won't even talk to you anymore. Did she finally realize that, when it comes to you, there's just  _not that much there?_ "

"No! That's not what happened! And there's plenty there! Look at yourself if you want disappointment!"

"You're not very good at insults. I hope you're better at other things…" Niles trailed off.

Silas looked back and forth between Odin's outrage and Niles' smug expression. The joke finally dawned on him and he laughed heartily, adding to Odin's exasperation. "As expected from you two! Hilarious!" He said, holding his stomach.

"'As expected'?" Odin repeated. "I would hope our reputations are more along the lines of 'Odin and Niles the Purveyors of Damnation' than 'Odin and Niles the Purveyors of Comments of Questionable Morality'. We're soldiers, not a Cirkensian comedy act."

"I don't know what to tell you," Silas replied, still chuckling. "You two  _do_ help to keep the army's morale up, though. Niles always has something horrible to say and Odin, you're…well, you."

Niles was pleased with both his compliment and the look on his fellow retainer's face. "I do what I can. If you want to hear more, I'd be happy to give you a private show back at my tent."

Silas held his hands up again and shook his head. "I'll pass, but thanks for the offer. Not my thing, I'm afraid."

"Oh? What  _is_  your thing, then?" Niles asked. His eyes slid to Odin, then back to Silas. "Is it princesses? Or is it sisters?"

Silas laughed again, embarrassed. "Neither. I just seem to know plenty of both."

"You're a brave man, trying to take on both Princesses Corrin and Elise at the same time. Well, either you're brave or you just have no shame. I can respect both," Niles said.

"That's not—! Corrin is my best friend!" Silas replied, flustered. "That's all!"

"And Elise is…?"

"She's…" He paused, considering the question. "She's really cute."

Niles shrugged. "She's too twee for my taste. Also milord would murder me in five different ways, none of them enjoyable. You seem like the kind that would like the little sister type."

Odin wrinkled his nose and waited for Silas to protest, but the knight just laughed again. "You might be right," he agreed. "Elise talks a lot and sometimes she can be a little too much in large doses, but she's fun. I don't mind women like that."

"You're not interested in pursuing her like  _that_ , though, right?" Odin asked.

Silas put his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'd never really thought of it, to be honest. But now that you mention it…it could be fun. I wonder if it might make Corrin jealous? Er, not that I want that," he added hurriedly.

Odin frowned. "That's not why you date someone."

"Who said anything about dating?" Silas replied, winking.

Niles smirked. "I like you more and more the longer we talk, Silas. Odin, if you keep scowling like that, your face will freeze that way and you'll get even less dates."

"Less than zero is still zero," Silas added, reaching over and jostling Niles to elbow Odin. "Ha ha! I'm just kidding with you! Oh, sorry, Niles, didn't mean to knock you in the face there."

"Oh no, please continue. I like it rough. A threesome in the bathhouse is a fantasy of mine," Niles replied. "I never pictured Odin in it, though."

Odin scowled harder. "Who would want to be in something like that?"

"That's your fantasy, eh?" Silas asked. "That's pretty tame."

Niles' interest shot through the roof. "Oh? Do tell us your wild, unreserved fantasies that put mine to shame."

Silas lowered his voice. "Alright, but only since we're pals now. You guys know how the accessory shop is right next to the lottery tent?"

oOoOoOo

That night, Leo, having finished his own bath, entered his tent to find Odin and Niles sitting on their cots silently, staring at each other. Both were pale. "What's this? Why do you two look like Faceless?" he asked, both worried and annoyed. The two turned to look at him, their eyes wide and their jaws slack. Leo took a step back, surprised. Odin mumbled something incoherent. "What? Speak properly! You're making me uncomfortable!"

"You're uncomfortable?" Odin replied indignantly. "You know not of being uncomfortable!"

At Leo's nonplussed expression, Niles gathered himself enough to speak. "Milord…don't…don't ever ask Silas about his fantasies…"

"Why would I do that?" Leo demanded. "What's wrong with you two?"

"We were curious…" Niles said dully, staring at the wall of the tent. "We had no idea…"

" _You_  were curious," Odin corrected him, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

"I had no idea that he…where did he even  _get_  those ideas…"

"I didn't even know such a thing was  _possible_ …I thought you were the most depraved person in the army, Niles…"

"So did I…we were wrong…"

"So wrong…"

Leo looked between his retainers, who seemed to have both retreated into themselves. "Get a hold of yourselves! If you're that bothered, just forget it and go to sleep."

Odin lifted his head, looking at his liege with empty eyes. "I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again…"

"Is it that bad…?" Leo asked, suspicious.

Niles stood up and swayed as he lurched to the door. "I need some air…"

Leo watched him leave, then turned to see Odin lay down and pull his pillow close as if for protection. He dressed himself for bed, blew out the lanterns, and wondered for the thousandth time if Prince Takumi's retainers were as dramatic as his. Also what in the world were Silas' fantasies…?

oOoOoOo

**Training grounds, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Elise panted, leaning her hands on her knees. "Ahh, I'm tired! I don't think I can do any more drills today! Or ever!"

Beside her, Silas wiped sweat and dirt off of his face, also panting. "I…I agree. Gunter is definitely a sadist, making up drills like this. And twenty-five reps of each? That's way too many!"

"Just…two more and we'll be done. We've got to try. Just push a little more!" Elise reset the obstacles and slowly walked to her starting position. "You jump to the left this time and I'll go to the right. Got it?"

Silas nodded and took his place at her side. "I can barely feel my feet…"

"Alright, here we go! One! Two! Go!" Elise squeezed her eyes shut, but before her feet could leave the ground, she was knocked over by Silas, who had jumped the wrong way. She shouted in surprise and tumbled to the ground. Silas stumbled and also fell. He would have knocked the breath out of her and possibly broken a few of her ribs if he didn't catch himself on his hands and knees instead of squashing her.

"Ah! Princess Elise! I'm sorry! That was completely my fault. Are you alright?" Silas asked, hovering over her.

His hands were on either side of her head and his knees were beside her thighs. She looked up in surprise at his concerned face and immediately felt uncomfortable. His face was too close. "Er…" she started to speak.

Before she could tell him that she was fine and to get off, he was yanked backwards by the collar of his training armor and thrown unceremoniously on the ground. "Ow…what the hell, Odin?" he said, rubbing the front of his neck.

Odin stood at Elise's feet, arms crossed. "Watch what you're doing around maidens smaller than yourself," he lectured Silas. "Especially breakable princesses! Don't think I'll just let you do as you please. I know what kind of a man you are!"

Silas blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, irritated.

"You know what it means! Don't make me relive that fearsome conversation!"

"Is  _that_ what this is about? Oh, come on!" Odin and Silas continued to squabble while Elise watched, catching her breath and inspecting herself for cuts. Silas suddenly started laughing and stood, brushing off his armor. "I see, I see!" He said, winking at Odin and walking away. "My apologies, Princess! I'm going to go on ahead," He called over his shoulder.

Elise watched him leave and then looked at Odin, who was still glaring in his direction. "Geez," She grumbled. "You didn't have to go that far." Odin said nothing and offered her his hand to help stand up. She looked at it for a second, then grabbed it and yanked, catching the mage off guard and pulling him down into the same fix Silas had been in.

It was just as she thought. With him hovering over her, she felt her heart hammer against her rib cage. His nose bumped hers before he pulled away and she felt as if electricity was crackling through her limbs.  _This_ was what it should feel like. Why didn't he feel it…? She opened her mouth to make up an excuse for pulling him, but stopped.

His face was bright red.

"Release me from your fell snare," he muttered, refusing to look at her.

She felt her own face heat up as well and let go of his hand. He stood up as fast as he could, looking around the entire time. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he was looking for, he speed-walked away from her without another word. She sat up and stared after him. What was going on?

oOoOoOo

**Dragon's Table Grounds, Plegia**

_I was an idiot._

Owain dodged a blow from a barbarian. The axe blade passed his face so closely he could smell the blood on the metal. The barbarian recovered more quickly from his swing than anticipated, and Owain wasn't ready to parry the second blow. Just as he'd resigned himself to his fate, a loud  _CRACK_  rent the air and the barbarian half-melted into a pile of flesh on the ground. "Pay attention!" Henry chastised his son, his usually jovial voice sharp with tension. "Losing limbs is fun, but wait until you're older or you'll worry your mother."

"S-sorry," Owain apologized, gripping his sword tighter. "And thanks, Father."

 _I was an idiot_ , he repeated silently in his mind, trying to avoid looking at the mangled heap that used to be his enemy.  _I thought this would be fun._  As his father ducked behind a broken column rising out of the sand, Owain took the opportunity to run to the next rally point. Lucina and Flavia had laid out a web of strategic places the soldiers could meet and discuss their next moves. The plan was to take these points one by one, forcing the retreat of Aversa's units back to the Table. All had gone well thus far, though Owain had realized quickly how underprepared he truly was.

A trio of soldiers spotted him darting across the plain and hurried to intercept his path. Owain pushed forward, hoping against hope that he could outrun his foes, but they caught him easily. A large man with a sword slid in the sand, knocking Owain's feet out from under him. Owain grunted as he hit the ground, still holding his own weapon tightly.  _This is just like something Severa would do_ , he thought, rolling to dodge a blow and springing to his feet. Yes, this was just like when he fought with his friends…except there were three of them now and they were trying to kill him. The armored woman with an axe was easily disposed of; as a myrmidon, he could move much faster than she could and was able to stick his sword in a chink in her armor before she could turn around. The swordsman was tougher. The third soldier, a cleric, stepped back into a defensive position and allowed her companion to take the lead. Owain tried to twist around the mercenary's side and gain access to the defenseless cleric, but his enemy was smart and dealt him a sharp blow across the back. Every time Owain landed a hit on the mercenary, the cleric healed him. This was an unwinnable battle. They were counting on wearing him down blow by blow and they were succeeding.

Gusts of wind blew drops of sweat off of his face and sand into his eyes. He squinted against the onslaught and was taken by surprise when the mercenary was blasted backwards by a burst of dragon breath. An iridescent pink dragon stomped into view, wings still churning the air, and put the mercenary down for good with another blast of crystalline fire. Owain vaulted over the dragon's back, caught the cleric, who was attempting to run, and opened her throat with his blade. With a slight  _pop_ , the dragon shrank back into the form of a small girl with braids. "Good save, Nah," Owain called to her gratefully.

She nodded stiffly, lips pressed together. A voice called from the west and footsteps pounded the sand, approaching the pair. Nowi and Gregor burst into view and ran past the two, only slowing to grab Nah's hand and pull her with them. "News is very badly!" Gregor bellowed, tucking his daughter under his arm. "Enemy is having squad armed with wyrmslayers! Little dragons must be making haste!"

Owain spun on his heel to see a cavalier galloping as fast as his horse could go across the sand, a large jagged blade in his hand. "Keep running!" he called over his shoulder at the escaping family. "I'll take care of this!"

Or so he said. Being brave and saying words like that were very different from facing a well-trained mounted soldier in person. Horses triumphed over foot soldiers unless foot soldiers had the advantage in numbers or weaponry; this was basic strategy. Should he charge head on? Should he try to attack from the side? If he missed once, he wouldn't be able to keep up with the horse and it would catch and kill Gregor and the manaketes. Head on it was. Cripple the horse if nothing else.

A shadow passed over his head and he looked up to see Cynthia swooping down from the sky. The cavalier saw her as well and pulled out a piece of glass, signaling to someone behind him. Half a minute later, arrows began to zip through the air. Cynthia frowned and dipped low, evading them. "Owain!" She called out. "I've got the cavalier! Cover me!" An arrow pierced one of her pigtails and she gasped, pulling her pegasus up into a climb.

Owain knew how dangerous this situation was and took off at a sprint toward the structures the archers were camped behind. One arrow in a wing, a flank, a head…that's all it would take to send Cynthia to her death.  _Not happening!_  He thought, rolling to dodge the arrows that were now being aimed at him.  _That's right. Try to shoot me, you dastards. Leave her alone._

The archers were forced to retreat, shooting over their shoulders, as he neared. A strangled cry from behind told him that Cynthia had succeeded in taking the cavalier down. One of the archers stepped in front of the other and pulled out a dagger when he ran out of room to fire arrows, but the dagger might as well have been a healing stave for all the pause it gave Owain. He pivoted on his left foot and sent the archer's blade arm skipping across the sand. Another slice with his sword separated the archer's head from his neck. The second archer fell to her knees and begged to be spared. Owain raised his sword, but hesitated when he saw the archer's tears.

Hooves clattered behind him and Cynthia's pegasus trotted to his side. "What are you doing?" Cynthia asked, shielding her face from the sun. "Hurry up! Morgan got separated from Inigo and Severa on the other side of the dune. Let's go help."

"Please…" the archer sobbed, face down in the sand. "I didn't want to be a soldier…I was taken from my family by the Grimleal…"

Owain looked up at Cynthia and saw the hesitation in her eyes as well. Blood pulsed in his ears with every beat of his heart and he swallowed heavily. Finally he reached down, picked up her bow, and broke it over his knee. After doing the same with the bow of her fallen companion, he swept his hand to the side. "Get out of here," he instructed. "If I come across you again, I  _will_  kill you." The archer nodded and scrambled to her feet, tossing aside her helm and quiver.

Owain watched her sprint away from the Table, then looked back at Cynthia. She shrugged. "…Come on, let's go find Morgan." She dug her heels into her pegasus' side and the animal leapt into the air, unfurling its massive wings. "This way!"

He followed her shadow over a large sand dune and squatted at the top, trying to avoid attracting attention and arrows. Below he could see a battle scene unfolding at the base of a large statue in a valley surrounded by dunes. Morgan, Tharja, and Sully were on one side, calmly working to maintain control of the large flat plateau. On the other side, Inigo, Severa, Lissa, Stahl, and Lucina were holding off a line of berserkers. He slid down the dune and trotted towards Morgan. She bristled when she heard his footsteps, then grinned when she realized who it was. "Right on time," she said cheerfully, holding a  _Thundara_  tome in one hand and a flask in the other. "You look like hell," she observed. "Take this." She handed him the flask, which he realized contained a healing potion.

"Thanks," he said, gulping the potion down. "Who needs stabbed on this side?"

"You sound like Lon'qu," she said, laughing. "We're waiting until the mages entrenched in the hill pop up to fire spells at us, then we snipe them. Sully is acting as bait right now."

Many yards away, Sully's red hair was visible atop a horse as she trotted back and forth, shouting insults at a patch of ruins. A hooded head appeared over a stone structure and a large fireball suddenly flamed up beside Sully's steed, causing it to whinny in fright. Standing under an overhanging of limestone, Tharja laughed unpleasantly and muttered a chant. A ball of dark energy sprang from her tome and bounded toward the place the enemy mage had hidden. When it reached the spot, it gently descended behind the stone. The air around that spot darkened and blood visibly sprayed into the air in a small geyser. Owain cringed. "What kind of magic is that…?"

"You don't want to know," Morgan replied. "If you want to play bait with Sully, go out into the sun with her. If you see the ground glow ever so slightly red, jump to the side or you'll be fricasseed. If you manage to get to the ruins, there's a nasty sorcerer playing with black magic behind that giant block and we'd really enjoy it if they'd stop raising Risen under our noses."

Morgan was in her element. Owain shuddered, handed back the empty flask, and strode out into the sunlight. Almost immediately, the ground under his feet changed color and he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a pillar of fire that rose from where he had been standing. Behind him, Morgan shouted something and a bolt of lightning snaked down from the sky, brilliantly illuminating a trench and throwing the shadows of the other mages in disarray.

Sully turned her head, spotted the newcomer, and waved. "Oi! Want to play cat and mouse for a bit? These cowards won't come out and fight me like adults! YOU HEAR THAT? YOU'RE A BUNCH OF LOUSY COWARDS," she shouted at the ruins, shaking her lance at them. The ground between them began to bubble and a revenant clawed its way out of the mire. Owain stepped forward to attack it, but was forced to throw himself to the left when the sand in front of the revenant glowed red and exploded in flame. "Be careful with the risen…the Grimleal are using them as traps," Sully pointed out.

"Thanks for the warning," Owain said sarcastically.

"What's that long face for?" Sully asked, dodging another fireball. "Don't you know we're winning?"

"We are?"

"Yep. We've got Aversa's troops on the retreat. If all goes well, our advance troops should be taking control of the Table soon. LEARN HOW TO AIM, YOU PINFEATHERS!"

Owain chuckled. "That warms my heart to hear. How could they stand against us when we've got monsters like Tharja, Lucina, my father, and you?"

Sully grinned. "Don't start flattering me, little boy." The revenant had lurched its way over to where she stood now and she wasted no time in putting her lance through its face. "I've got things covered here. Why don't you go see where your mother went? She'll be glad to see your face."

oOoOoOo

Lissa  _was_  glad to see Owain. She inspected him thoroughly as soon as she dragged him out of the open. "You look well. I'm so glad," she said, checking his scalp. "Some of your hair is a little singed in the back…"

"No worries, Mother! The divine blessing in my left hand has protected me! …and Morgan gave me a healing potion."

"Good! You pass inspection! Go help Inigo and Severa and signal if you need me!"

Owain jogged out to where several small skirmishes were taking place. Severa and Inigo were back to back, fending off two berserkers. Owain surprised them all by leaping out in the middle and sweeping one of the berserkers' feet out from under them. Severa took the opening and drove her sword through the enemy's face grate up to the hilt. Inigo, as smooth as always, whirled around her to fend off a strike from the other berserker. Owain stepped beside him, covering Severa as she struggled to pull her sword out of the corpse's skull. The still-alive berserker was no match against two and went down quickly. The trio then overran a hero who was preparing to rush Stahl.

"Sully says the battle is going well," Owain said, clapping his friends on the back as they panted.

"Good," Severa replied grumpily. "I'm tired and dirty and hungry and this sucks."

Inigo wiped his face with his shirt. "I'm ready for this to be over as well. I've never been this exhausted in my life."

Overhead, pegasi belonging to friend and foe alike swooped through the sky. Severa looked up at them for a moment, then frowned. "Does anyone else think it's getting darker?"

Owain looked down at his shadow, which was significantly fainter than before. "That's odd. Is evening approaching already?"

"It can't be. It's barely past midday," Severa replied, shielding her eyes and looking towards the sun. "I don't like this."

Lucina jogged up to the three, Falchion in hand. "Why is the sun fading?" She asked them, looking around. "Are there sorcerers in this direction?"

"Not that I've seen," Inigo replied, smiling at his sister. "Did you get your area cleaned up?"

"They all retreated toward the Table. I wouldn't be surprised if Aversa is planning a final push. We should prepare ourselves. Our advance team should have reached the Table by now."

"What's next?" Owain asked.

Lucina frowned as the dusk around them grew deeper. "Flavia should give us a signal when they either end Aversa or take the Table. But this dark is unnatural. I think we should follow them sooner rather than later."

Inigo shrugged. "It's your call. I'll do as you say."

"Understood. I'll go discuss this with Sully." Lucina turned and started walking away, but stopped when a long horn call sounded from the direction of the Table, followed by three short blasts and a final call that was cut off midway through. The princess stopped and stiffened, snapping her head towards the sound. "…gods…" she whispered.

"What?" Owain asked nervously.

"That's the distress signal," Lucina replied tightly. "Something has gone wrong. We have to aid them."

She immediately took off at a run towards the Table, nearly stumbling over a patch of weeds she missed in the dark. The three followed, exchanging glances. "What about Stahl?" Inigo asked.

"The veterans know the signals and will follow. Just run!" The group wound around corpses and jagged ruins until they reached the wall of the sandy valley. They struggled up the side of the dune, using hands and feet to climb. Lucina reached the top first and stopped. An arrow whipped past her face, slicing a line of blood onto her cheek. She ignored it, turned around, and started sprinting back in the direction from which they'd come. "RETREAT!" She screamed, pulling her brother's sleeve as she passed him.

Severa, Inigo, and Owain followed immediately. "What did you see?" Severa demanded as they ran.

Lucina only shook her head, face pale. They reached the bottom of the dune just as Sully and Stahl galloped up. "What's going on?" Sully demanded. "You're going the wrong way! And why is it so damned dark?"

"Re-retreat…!" Lucina gasped, slowing to a jog and choking on her own panic. "We've been tricked…!" In the low light, Owain could see Morgan and Tharja approaching from behind Sully. Both held a blue flame aloft in their hands, illuminating the way in front of them.

Sully reached out and caught Lucina's collar. Stahl rode to her side and put a hand on her head. "Breathe, Lucina. What's happened? We heard the distress signal."

Lucina fell to the ground, shaking. "I saw…Validar has brought reinforcements faster than we expected. They've retaken the Table…they're coming this way…they had Flavia's body on a pike…"

Horror flooded Owain's body and he swayed on the spot. Flavia's…had the entire advance team been killed? Miriel…Vaike…Cordelia…Frederick…he turned his head to see that Severa had come to the same realization that he had. "Severa-" he started, reaching out his hand.

She slapped it away. "I'm fine. Don't touch me."

Inigo looked sideways at her but said nothing. Sully finally recovered from her shock and cleared her throat. "We need to retreat and regroup. How far away are they?"

Lucina stood, still shaking, and began to jog again. "Not far enough. Where is Mother?"

"She's with Henry, Gaius, and Kjelle," Stahl replied, turning his horse to follow her. "Brady, Noire, Gerome, and Yarne are with Donnel at the very back."

"Signal the pegasi and dragons," Lucina directed. "Let's head for the trees."

oOoOoOo

They never made it to the trees. Validar's troops began pouring into the valley as they were climbing the opposite wall and quickly forced them into a defensive stand at the gate of the entrance to the Dragon's Table grounds. The rest of the soldiers joined them and helped dig trenches and defensive barriers against the barrage of arrows and magic being slung by the approaching front line.

The advancing reinforcements looked like a tidal wave of death—all dark armor and grim faces. They had easily twice as many as Aversa had had and were better armed. Even so, Owain grasped his sword confidently. They'd come this far, hadn't they? They would win. They had to win.

Validar's front line hit the defenders like a stonewall, but Lucina and the others refused to stand down. With so many combatants in such close proximity, the fighting was violent. Swords and lances were everywhere and magic rose to the sky in waves of color. Lissa, Brady, and Maribelle stayed in the middle of the protective ring, throwing healing spells as fast as they could summon them. Olivia flitted from soldier to soldier, avoiding arrows and raising morale. Despite their lack of numbers, the line was holding. Validar's troops began retreating and the Ylissean army cheered triumphantly.

Then  _he_  stepped out.

Red eyes glowed from under a familiar hood as the opposing army parted to let him through. He reached the front, pushed back his hood, and the air went still. His allies held torches on sticks and the firelight glinted off of his snow-white hair.

Robin.

He took a step towards the Ylisseans and no one knew what to do. The only ones who found their legs were his family. Tharja was the first to break ranks, running to her husband. Morgan and Noire followed, paces behind. The dark mage reached him, stretching her arms out. "Robin!" She called. He reached towards her as well, taking her head in his hands. Then, with a jerk, he twisted her head to the side, snapping her neck. The blue flames surrounding her disappeared with a hiss.

Her body dropped limply to the ground at his feet. Noire and Morgan stopped in their tracks and screamed. Noire began backing up, but Morgan stood as if nailed to the sand. Robin, his expression unchanged, approached his daughter. Sully broke ranks as well, reaching Morgan at the same time as Robin. She jumped off her horse, scooped up the girl and threw her backwards, holding her lance out against their former tactician. "ROBIN!" She screamed, horror in her voice. "WHAT ARE YOU-" Her words were cut off as he thrust his hand, glowing, through her armor and into her chest. She struggled for a moment, then coughed an extraordinary amount of blood out of her mouth and went limp.

"MOTHER!" Kjelle screamed, dropping her lance. She made to rush forward, but an unseen force held her back.

Lucina was shaking uncontrollably again. Lissa made her way to the princess, put a hand on her shoulder, and shook her head, eyes wide. Lucina swallowed hard as Robin shook Sully's body off of his hand. "R-retreat! That's an order! Retreat using whatever means necessary!"

Chaos erupted. Robin surged forward, spurring the rest of Validar's troops to follow. Noire pulled Morgan to her feet, dropped her bow, and ran as fast as she could towards the trees. Stahl pulled his horse up behind them, trying in vain to stall Robin's approach. Henry stepped to Owain's left, flicking open a worn, bloodstained tome. "Run, son," he said. "Let me take care of this. What do you bet Lucina will let me use all those hexes she banned now?"

Owain shook his head. "No! If you're staying, I'm staying with you, Father."

Lissa stepped to his right and put a hand on his arm. "Listen to us, son. Take the other children and run. Let us handle Robin."

"Mother! You don't even have a weapon!"

She laughed. "I have your father don't I? That's more than I need."

Henry reached in front of Owain and took Lissa's hand. "I always wanted to die in your arms, love."

Tears welled in Lissa's eyes and slipped down her cheeks, but she laughed again. "As long as I have any strength left, I won't let you."

" _GO!_ " Henry said, stepping in front of his son. A dark aura began to swirl around him, faster and faster. "Time for some death!"

Owain touched his mother's sleeve one last time before turning and running. Noire and Yarne were far ahead of him already. He passed Olivia, who was pressing kisses to Lucina and Inigo's cheeks before shoving them behind her. Somewhere at his back, Owain heard his father laugh. " _Special delivery_!" he cackled before releasing a horrible, gelatinous wave of dark energy that ate his enemies' skin and bones like acid wherever it clung. Arrow after arrow pierced him, but at his side, Lissa had her staff pressed to his back and was whispering nonstop. As he healed, his body pushed the arrows out of his skin.

A hand grabbed Owain's sleeve, stopping him. He raised his sword, but the man who'd grabbed him blocked it with a dagger. "Calm down, tiger," Gaius said, releasing his tension on Owain's blade. "Take this one with you, won't you?" He motioned to Cynthia, who was struggling against the way he held her against his chest.

"Cynthia," Owain said, glad to see her.

She struggled harder. "No! I won't run! I don't need a pegasus to fight! I won't leave you!"

Gaius pushed her into Owain's arms and stepped back, revealing a large wound in his abdomen. "Take care of her, got it? As her father, I'd like to threaten you properly, but I feel like this may not be the time."

Owain nodded and pulled Cynthia into his chest. "Come on, Cyn," he said, looking around to make sure they weren't about to be ambushed. "Let's go."

"No! Let go of me, Owain! Daddy! Daddy?!" She pushed away from Owain's chest, but Gaius had already disappeared into the fray. "NO!" She screamed, tears flooding down her face.

Gaius had given him one last task and he would fulfill it. Owain took firm hold of Cynthia's arm and dragged her behind him as he ran. He pulled her behind a broken column as a volley of arrows whistled around their heads. He could hear his father laughing again and he peeked out from behind the column to see Henry holding Lissa's body tightly against his side. An arrow protruded from her neck and more were striking his chest. He released another smaller wave of darkness, then fell to his knees, still chuckling. Robin stepped over them, glowing purple and black and dragging a partially dismembered Donnel by his fluffy hair. He slung death with casual movements, snuffing out life after life.

The horror was too much and Owain wanted to give up and let death win. What was left even if he escaped? Cynthia felt him relax and shook her head furiously. "I'm with you, Owain," she whispered, pressing kisses to his dirty face. "Don't give up." Owain buried his face in Cynthia's hair for a moment, then pulled her up again and ran into the treeline.

One by one the teenagers found each other in the forest. Whispers were exchanged, but they kept running as a group. Running from the trauma, running from the stench of blood, running from images they would never be able to forget. They ran, led by Lucina, until they couldn't run any longer. Then they walked. True night fell and the sounds of battle died behind them.

By the time the sun rose, the world was silent.

oOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellp. Between Niles' phallic references and all the Death with a capital D, I hope that wasn't too explicit. Why do I literarily torture everyone I love?
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Nice to see you, Assertingfire3! Welcome to my story and thank you for your comment! 
> 
> LemonyDave, you know I love you~


	9. Fugitives

**Woods, Twelve miles inside Ylissean border**

“They’re definitely tracking us,” Noire said breathlessly, bursting out of the trees and into a small clearing where the eleven other teenagers were waiting. “They’re using trackers and some sort of dog-like creature.”

Gasps greeted her words and Lucina grabbed the handle of Falchion reflexively. “We have to get moving.”

Nah closed her eyes tightly as if trying to block out the world. “…do you think they tracked us through the villages we stayed in overnight?”

Heads swiveled to look at her and ponder this new horror. “No…” Cynthia gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth as she thought of the kind older couples in whose homes they’d taken shelter. “Please, no!”

“We don’t have time to sit and worry about others. What’s done is done. We have enough trouble on our own doorstep,” Gerome said, standing and kicking out the fire. When it was extinguished, he left the embers for the others to take care of and disappeared into the woods to ready Minerva, his mother’s dragon and now his.

Yarne shivered in place, mostly out of fear and partly from an evening chill. “Where can we go? It doesn’t matter how far we run if they can track us. It’s just a waiting game until they catch us.”

“Shut up, Yarne,” Severa grumbled, kicking more dirt onto the smoldering ashes.

“You can ignore me, but you know I’m right. Look at Morgan! She hasn’t responded to anyone in days. She can’t run in this condition.”

“Shut _up_ , Yarne!” Severa growled, turning to glower at him. “She’ll ride with Cynthia or Gerome like she’s been doing. What’s your suggestion? We lay down like foals and await our fate?”

The last remaining Taguel’s face flushed. “I think our parents--”

Severa cut him off. “Our parents are dead.” A beat of silence. “I’m going to keep trying to find a way to fight this. I don't like any of you enough to share a grave with.”

Morgan, with her blank stare, had started shaking again. Owain stepped forward to put an arm around her, but when he did, he found Cynthia had had the same idea. He slowly slipped his arm around the raven-haired girl’s other shoulder, allowing his finger to graze across Cynthia’s skin. Cynthia’s breathing quickened and they avoided looking at each other.

Noire knelt in front of her sister, running her thumb over her cheek. “Morgan? We need to leave. Can you hear me?” Morgan continued to stare with hollow eyes. Her lips twitched but her expression didn’t change, even when her sister shook her, gently, then harder. “Morgan, I need you to wake up. Please.” When nothing changed, Noire’s face darkened. “Wake up, you little maggot!” She reached out and slapped the mage smartly across the face.

Owain immediately pushed her away. “Hey!” He protested, standing between her and Morgan, whose countenance was still as empty as ever.

The anger faded from Noire’s face, replaced by pain. “I-I’m sorry…I don’t know what came over me. I just…gods…”

Cynthia pulled Morgan against her chest and wrapped her arms around her protectively. “She can fly with me on Avis.” Noire nodded and shrank back, ashamed.

Lucina looked from teenager to teenager. “We make for Mount Prism. That’s my decision. We have the Fire Emblem,” she explained, touching the precious shield she’d worn on her sleeve since her father’s murder. “Naga will guide us. We can stop all this. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

No one knew enough about the Fire Emblem to make a comment, except Laurent, who frowned. “We only have four of the Gemstones. We need the fifth before we can perform the Awakening.”

Lucina pressed her lips together, frustrated. “I know. I…we can only pray that Naga overlooks that little detail…I can’t think of another option.”

“I’m in,” Inigo said, stepping beside his sister. “I agree with you. Let’s go.” Others nodded their assent along with him.

Sparing her brother a tight smile, Lucina nodded. “Good. Pack up, everyone.”

“We need more provisions. If you think I’m going to march another day on freaking berries and mushrooms, you’re out of your minds.” Severa spoke up, having already slung her satchel and sword over her shoulder.

Cynthia shook her head furiously. “We can’t lead the Plegians to any more towns or villages. Who knows what they’ve done to the ones they tracked us through already.”

“Bear with it for now, Severa,” Lucina directed. “We’ll hunt for game at dawn and I’ll send a flier to any villages we come within sight of.”

“Ugh, fine,” Severa moaned. “Gods, what a lousy bunch to be stuck with at the end of the world.”

oOoOoOo

 **Summit, Mount Prism**         

“I see her!” Cynthia shouted, bringing the others running. “She’s coming out of the Sanctuary!”

Laurent nearly lost his hat as he ran across the plains, avoiding stone ruins in the grass. He didn’t run much (if ever) and he struggled to keep a hand on his hat, run, and shout at the same time. “She must have done it! If she’d attempted the Awakening and been unsuccessful, she’d have been consumed by Naga’s holy flames. The—AH!” He tripped over a stone and fell face-first into the soft dirt.

Severa started laughing at him so hard she was crying, so Owain stuck out his leg. She, too, received a face-full of earth and grass and immediately popped up, swearing and threatening Owain colorfully. The other children laughed at the sight as they ran, even Laurent, who was gingerly dusting off his cloak. Owain ignored Severa’s words—he’d take whatever she dished out. It didn’t matter. He’d do whatever it took to bring a little joy back to the faces of his traumatized friends.

Inigo caught his sister when she collapsed in the grass outside the Sanctuary. “Lucina!” He said, patting her face vigorously. “What happened? Did it work?”

“I doubt it. Nothing’s changed,” Severa said, walking up to the pair and picking grass out of her teeth.

Owain ran up beside her and she took the opportunity to shove her elbow in his ribs. “Oof,” he groaned, holding his side.

Gerome pushed them both out of the way and approached Lucina and Inigo. “I have water,” he said, uncorking a flask. “Here.” When the water splashed on her face, Lucina snapped back to reality and gasped. “Try not to breathe it,” Gerome warned, wiping it out of her eyes.

Once she could stand, Inigo let his sister support herself on her own. “Well?”

A loud clanking came from behind; Kjelle was the last to reach the group, thanks to her bulky armor. Lucina closed her eyes again and shook her head. “N-no. It…I couldn’t perform the rite.”

“How are you alive, then?” Laurent marvelled, looking her up and down.

“I managed to summon Naga,” Lucina began. The others gasped, impressed. “But she said she couldn’t do the rite without all five Gemstones. I begged her, but it was out of her control.”

Cynthia blinked, confused. “But she’s a goddess! How is anything out of her control?”

“I don't think the gods work like you think they do,” Nah said, eyes narrowed.

“Never min’ that,” Brady interrupted. “What’re we s’posed to do now? This was our last chance.”

All eyes turned to Lucina, who looked from face to face. “Naga suggested a second option, if you would be open to it. It…will be difficult, but I think we could do it.” When no one responded, she continued. “In three days’ time, the Outrealm Gate will open—a portal to the past. I’m going to use it to go back in time and stop all of this from ever happening.”

Shocked silence fell over the group. “ _What?_ ” Severa asked, her tone indicative of Lucina’s lost sanity.

“Lady Tiki has fled to Ylisstol. Naga has promised to open a gate there in three days. I am going to use the Gate to go back to the time before any of this happened—before Exalt Emmeryn was assassinated, before my father was murdered, before Robin was taken—and stop it.” She put a hand on Falchion at her side. “I will change fate. If any of you feel the same, come with me. We can stop the tragedies…”

“We could…we could save our parents…” Owain muttered, once again seeing the image of an arrow embedded in his mother’s throat and struggling to breathe. “I…Mother…”

Cynthia looked over and took his hand. “I’ll go. I—”

Lucina held up a hand. “Hold. I want us all to go and think deeply about this proposition. Let’s sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning we will discuss it. This is no light matter and it deserves its due diligence.”

The group nodded and dispersed in groups, leaving Lucina to sit heavily on the ground and put her head in her arms.

As they had no tents, the twelve teenagers slept on mats in a circle around a low-burning fire. Owain stared at the stars, trying to even comprehend Naga and Lucina’s scheme. Go back in time? How far? Would his mother and father recognize him? How could they explain it to them without seeming like they were all part of a mass delusion or scheme? How could they even hope to stop this horrible, apocalyptic future from happening?

Something rustled to his right and he turned his head to see Cynthia watching him. Blood pulsed into his cheeks at her proximity. It was like they were sharing a bed…his heart jackhammered and his body betrayed him until he realized that would also mean he was sharing a bed with Inigo on the other side. Ugh. Cynthia watched his expressions run the gamut and made a face, confused. “What are you thinking about?” She whispered, scooting closer.

“I was regretting letting Inigo sleep beside me again,” he replied, also whispering. “He cuddles in his sleep and I keep waking up with him wrapped around me like a baby monkey from Valm.”

Cynthia giggled. “That’s because you’re the closest to him. Push him towards Severa and he’ll go towards her warmth.”

Owain grinned and turned over slowly. Once he’d ascertained that the young prince was asleep, he stuck a foot out from under his blanket and pushed him gently towards Severa, who was sleeping on Inigo’s other side. He then scooted his pillow further away from his friend and turned back to Cynthia. She was even closer now, and Owain didn’t know where to look. “Mission accomplished,” he muttered.

“Good work, soldier,” she replied, still giggling. When her laughter petered out, she pulled her blanket up further, trying to get comfortable. Her eyes, like Owain’s, darted about, looking for something to focus on. The campfire crackled comfortingly in the background, but her face was tense. “I don’t want to fall asleep,” she admitted even quieter than before.

Owain inched closer. “What? Why? Kjelle has first watch tonight. We can trust her.”

“I’m not scared of being attacked,” she explained. “Well, at least not in an immediate sense.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She frowned, sinking further under her blanket. “I have bad dreams.”

“Oh,” Owain replied, unable to think of a better answer. His own sleep had been dreamless, as was usual for him. He started to ask what her nightmares were about, then stopped, feeling foolish. He knew what they were about.

“It’s mostly my dad,” she whispered softly. “I’m back in that awful place and it’s dark and I can’t find anyone I know. I hear his voice calling my name…he sounds like he’s in pain…but I can’t find him. And I search and I cry but he’s nowhere…then his voice stops and I know…I just know he’s gone.” Her round eyes glittered with sudden tears that quickly began to roll down her cheeks. She sniffed quietly. “When I wake up…he’s still gone. He’ll always be gone. I’ll never wake up from that dream and be able to breathe a sigh of relief because my nightmares are real.”

Owain felt his nose prickle as his eyes, too, watered. He blinked rapidly to banish the evidence. “Am I in your dreams?”

“No,” Cynthia answered, rubbing her nose with her right hand. “There’s no one but me and shadowy figures. I don’t know any of them.”

“Ah hah! Then your nightmares can’t be real,” he informed her proudly. When she looked at him, nonplussed, he continued. “I’ll always be here when you wake up. That’s how you’ll know you’re just having a bad dream. Look for me. If you can’t find me, it’s not real.”

She thought for a moment, then smiled. “I like that.”

Emboldened, Owain made to say something else, but they’d apparently stopped whispering quietly enough, for Severa sat up on Inigo’s other side and hissed at them to _shut the hell up!_ Owain and Cynthia both closed their eyes, pretending to be asleep, until the brunette huffed and laid back down. When Owain opened his eyes again, Cynthia was peeking back. She rolled her eyes and they smiled at each other. Her smile faded faster and her face tensed again, so Owain stuck his hand out of his blanket. Cynthia looked at his hand, surprised, then looked up at his face. He was carefully avoiding eye contact.

He almost yelped when he felt her warm fingers slide into his. Their hands held each other loosely. When he finally dared to look at her, she’d closed her eyes, but her smile had returned.

oOoOoOo

“I’m going with you,” Inigo stated plainly when Lucina opened the floor for discussion the next morning. “It’s not an option for me—I won’t let you weather this alone.”

Cynthia nodded vigorously. “I agree. I think we owe it to our parents. They gave everything to save us—how could we go on if we didn’t do all we could to preserve what they fought for?”

“I completely disagree,” Kjelle stated flatly. “Our parents didn’t die for us to give up on this fight and go running away to another one. Our responsibility is to this time.”

Gerome moved next to Kjelle, his eyes obscured by his black mask and his face unfathomable. “I, too, believe our allegiance should lie with the land and time in which we were born. Who’s to say we can save the past? Would we abandon our parents’ bodies just to watch them die again? How would we explain ourselves to them? They’d think us mad.”

“They can think anything they like as long as they’re alive,” Owain pointed out. “I’m going with Lucina, Inigo, and Cynthia. Any hope is more than none.”

Severa glowered at the rest of the group, daring them to disagree with anything she was about to say. “I’m going too. Like hell I’m going to let my mother be the perfect martyr. I’ll go back in time and do what she clearly can’t--save her _and_ Daddy.”

“I’m not real fond of the idea,” Brady admitted. “I wanna go back, find my Ma and Pa’s bodies, an’ bury ‘em proper-like.”

The idea of returning to the slaughter grounds was unimaginable to most in the group and they shuddered in horror. Which was worse—the idea of leaving their parents bodies’ to rot for the rest of time or returning to collect the strewn pieces to bury? “I don’t want to focus on the past…I want to look towards the future…but I can’t just go along with you, either. How would I take care of Morgan?” Noire held her little sister’s thin shoulders. “I don’t know what to do or what would be best for her.”

Lucina nodded, then looked to the teens that hadn’t spoken yet. “What of you three? Laurent? You always have something helpful to say.”

Laurent shook his head, eyes closed. “Time travel is something about which we have no data. I can not form conjectures from empty data sets and I am not given to glib speculations based on ephemeral and easily-influenced feelings.”

Severa rolled her eyes at him, but Nah nodded from his side. “Laurent is right. How can we make a solid decision about something that is only theoretical? We need more time and information.” The little dragon sighed, hugging herself loosely.

“Yarne?” Lucina asked.

The Taguel made a face. “I’ll go along with whatever the most people do.” He avoided eye contact with the group. “I’m the last of my kind so, you know, I should be careful.”

Everyone instinctively looked at Morgan so as to get her opinion, but her eyes were as blank as the day before. Lucina put a hand on her head for a moment, then nodded. “I understand all of your positions well. I am still committed to going to using Naga’s portal,” she said. Gerome and Kjelle frowned, but said nothing. “I ask that any who wish to join me be at the castle in Ylisstol by noon in three days’ time. You’re welcome to march back with me or do so at your own pace.”

Muscles twitched in Gerome’s jaw though his expression was hidden. He turned and stalked away, his perturbation obvious in his gait. Lucina looked after him and frowned. Kjelle stood in thought for a moment, then followed him. Owain felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see Cynthia motioning him away. She led him back to the circle of sleeping mats and knelt to begin rolling hers up. “You mean it? You’re coming with?”

“Owain is a man of his word. Of course I mean it.” He knelt beside her and grabbed his own blanket to fold. “Even if I disagreed, there’s no way I’m letting you guys go on an adventure like that without me.”

“Naturally!” Cynthia agreed. “We have to have the hero with us!”

Even though he felt ridiculous, Owain also felt pride at those words. He _was_ rather like a hero, wasn’t he? Going back in time to save the future…it sounded like one of the fantastical tales in Miriel’s library. He’d always loved those books; he’d read them many times each. He loved the heroes most of all. No matter the odds, the hero always came out on top. It was comforting to recall the stories stored in those colorful tomes. Times would get tough and the hero often suffered, but the ending was worth it. If the heroes could live through pain and torment and still chase their happy endings, he could also.

By sheer will alone, he would push through. He wasn’t even alone, as so many of his favorite heroes were. Friends surrounded him. There was nothing they couldn’t do if they were together. And what an honor—to be the protagonist of his very own story! A thrill ran up his spine and, for a second, he forgot that his parents lay dead on the floor of a forest many miles away. “I’m no ordinary hero, Cynthia! You are witnessing the birth of Owain, Scion of Legends Eternal!”

Cynthia clapped. “Yeah! Legends Eternal!”

“I need a new name,” he said suddenly, realizing. “Mine doesn’t strike the same sort of terror in villains’ hearts that I require.”

“New name? Why? I like Owain.”

“Y-you do? Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. It’s definitely a name of power. Trust me. My hero-senses are never wrong.”

Owain stuffed his blanket in his satchel. “What about when we become famous legends of myth? We’ll need to obscure our identities from those who would seek our power and wisdom.”

“You think you’re going to have groupies?”

“Probably. I’ll need to start a new life with a new name. Preferably something with more hard consonants for my enemies to trip over, like Oggned or Ogad. I like Odig.”

Cynthia shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Over my dead body am I going to call you something stupid like that. What horrible name are you going to saddle me with? Cyprus? Cynderias?”

Owain shook his head. “No, you’re Beano the Barbarian Queen. You can’t deny your roots.”

“Odin and Beano the Barbarian Queen. Everyone would pay to hear the bard sing _that_ song,” Cynthia said, laughing.

“It’s _Odig_ , not Odin. That sounds like a food. Together you make us sound like some kind of legume soup.”

"Whatever,” Cynthia said, smiling. “I like it, but I like Owain and Cynthia the Time Drifting Duo better. It’s an epic tale of love, loss, and conquest.”

Owain helped her tie the last piece of twine around her bedroll and stood. “How does it end?”

Slinging her satchel on her back, the girl looked him in the eyes. “We save the world and ride off into the sunset together, of course.”

“Together?”

“Well, we’re always together.”

“What about Inigo and Severa?”

Cynthia frowned. “You want them in our sunset?”

“No,” Owain replied, slowly shaking his head. His heart thumped in his chest. “Just you.”

Her eyes held his, shy but firm. “That’s what I want, too.” She reached her hand out and timidly brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, then hurried away to check on Morgan and Noire. He stood for a minute after she left, trying to figure out if what he thought had happened had really just happened.

oOoOoOo

**Atrium, Royal Palace Ruins, Ylisstol**

Whether they were tipped off by a third party or simply guessed the teenagers’ intentions, the Grimleal launched an unexpected assault on Ylisstol in the early hours of the morning of the day the Outrealm Gate was set to open. Owain, who was relishing sleeping in his own bed in the royal apartments again, was knocked onto the floor by a massive explosion that rocked the castle halls. He instinctively scrambled to his feet and groped for his sword, only to find he’d stowed it under the bed. Another blast rocked the floor again and he dropped to his knees, reaching under the wooden frame to take hold of the familiar leather hilt.

Though the noises were steadily getting louder and sleep still lingered in the corners of his eyes, he had enough presence of mind to throw some clothes and provisions in his knapsack before buckling it over his shoulder and throwing open the door to the rest of the palace. He stepped into the hall and looked side to side. Smoke and dust was beginning to filter into the corridor. Shouts rang out from a distant place. _Shit_ , he thought, using his hand to cover his nose. _Cynthia!_

He turned to the right and sprinted through the stone hall, taking turn after turn until he came to the apartments being used by Cynthia, Severa, Noire, and Morgan. The girls’ door was already open and he could hear their panicked voices inside. Noire was pushed out of the doorway before he reached it, her face creased with annoyance and worry. “You don’t get to make decisions for my sister,” she barked at whoever had pushed her. “Owain! Tell them to give Morgan back to me!”

Cynthia, who was carrying an awake but unresponsive Morgan, tumbled out of the doorframe just in time for another explosion to nearly knock her off her feet. “Owain! What’s happening?”

“I know not!” Owain replied, hurrying forward and pulling Morgan out of her arms. “I was hoping you’d know.”

“Not a clue,” Cynthia admitted. “But I’m putting Morgan on Avis and getting her out of here. I don’t care what Noire says. She can’t carry Morgan all the way across the castle.”

Noire growled on the other side of Owain. “I will take care of my own sister! Give her back!”

“I’m carrying her for now,” Owain interjected, hoisting the girl higher in his arms, bridal-style. “The explosions sound like they’re coming this way. Let’s head back and try to meet up with Lucina and the others.”

Severa was the last to join them in the hall, her brown hair thrown into haphazard ponytails. She slammed the door behind her and looked up and down the stone walls. “Whatever Owain just said, I agree with. I’m not sticking around here for whatever is going on to find me.”

The group found a window near the front wall and pressed their faces to the glass. The front courtyard was aflame. Smoke obscured their view, but they could still make out the familiar black cloaks they knew all too well. Noire fell back from the window in terror. “I-It’s the Grimleal! Gods!”

Severa swore fervently, pulling her sword from the sheath at her side. Cynthia, whose weapon was with her pegasus, swallowed hard. “I hate fighting inside,” she moaned. “I need to get to the stables if they haven’t burnt them down already.”

“I can’t fight while holding Morgan,” Owain pointed out to the group. “You’ll have to cover me.”

“Give her to me,” Cynthia instructed. “I have no lance and I’m useless on my feet, anyway. We need you doing damage.”

Noire shook her head fiercely. “No! Give her to me.” Owain complied and she dumped the little tactician onto her feet. “Morgan. Listen to me. We need you to snap out of whatever is happening in your head. Get a grip or we’re all dead, do you hear me? Mother is dead. Do you want to be dead too?” She reached out and slapped her face again, like she did back at Mount Prism. Cynthia made to grab her hand, but Severa stopped her. “We’re through babying you. You’re miserable, I’m miserable, everyone’s miserable. Shape up or all of our lives end here. Do you understand?”

A glimmer of recognition passed through Morgan’s eyes, but she said nothing. Noire slapped her again. “Answer me, you little cow!” Slowly, Morgan nodded. Cynthia gasped. Noire pulled her sister into her arms briefly, then shoved her away. “Stay by my side until either we find Lucina or I die, got it? Good. Don’t you dare leave me.”

Owain watched the white-headed archer fit an arrow into her bow and face the others with a defiant, sulky face. He shrugged a little and jerked his head, unsheathing his own sword. “This way,” he directed.

Noire’s methods weren’t what he would have used, but perhaps she knew her sister the best after all. He wondered if Morgan would ever be the same, in the past or any other time.

They made their way down a flight of stairs, winding around the kitchen and servants’ quarters toward the front hall, where the sounds of battle were loudest. Morgan followed at her sister’s heels, though her eyes were still dazed and she hadn’t spoken a word. Soldiers rushed past the group, heading in the same direction, and they followed them. The smoke was thick in the air now, and they could hear steel against steel and the crack of magic. Another explosion rocked the ground and they covered their ears. “It sounds like the castle is falling apart,” Cynthia panted.

Owain peered around a doorframe. “That’s because it is,” he replied. “This way.” The air was becoming thinner, and they quickly found out why—the ceiling and second floor had been blown off the front of the castle. Smoke rose freely into the air from the many fires burning. They stepped out into the open and looked up to see dragons and pegasi darting across the slowly lightening sky, engaged in combat. Across the remainder of the room, they could see familiar blue hair crouching behind a big chunk of stone in what used to be the castle atrium.

The Grimleal spotted the newcomers as soon as they attempted to cross the debris-covered floor. Owain and Severa took turns gutting the Plegians obstructing the way while Noire covered their back and Cynthia kept Morgan’s head down. They reached the modest barricade Lucina had constructed within minutes and vaulted over the side. “Gods!” A voice yelled. “Severa! Owain! I nearly put my sword through you,” Inigo yelped.

“Did you want us to knock?” Severa demanded through her teeth.

Inigo laughed, partly from terror and partly from relief. “I suppose not. I’m just glad to see you. Lucina! Look who it is!”

Lucina slid off a stairway of stone and smiled a rare smile at the five. “Thank Naga.”

“What’s the plan?” Owain asked, keeping an eye on the barricade wall they’d just jumped. “Where are the others?”

“Yarne’s over there,” Inigo said, making a face and pointing toward a corner where Yarne was cowering. “We haven’t heard from or seen the rest.”

Lucina looked pained. “It’s alright if the others do not join us. It’s their right to choose to stay.” She motioned to Noire, pointing her and her bow towards a low-flying Plegian dragon. “Dawn is coming. The Gate will open wherever I am at six o’clock this evening. We need to survive roughly the next ten hours.”

“Survive?” Cynthia asked, her voice trembling.

“There’s no use fighting,” Lucina explained, also shaking. “Ylisstol has fallen. The Grimleal took us by surprise. How they knew where we were, I can’t say…”

A sudden eerie hush fell and the teenagers looked at each other before hurrying to peer over the wall of their hiding spot. Bodies littered the ground, belonging to both Ylissean soldiers and Grimleal. The remaining fighters had paused, overwhelmed by the dark aura pulsing from an enormous shadow passing through the remnants of the castle’s shattered front doors. Noire’s breath caught. Lucina hissed as the shadow grew larger and larger, becoming recognizable a gigantic dark dragon. “Grima,” she whispered. “We need to leave.”

Even the mention of Grima’s name brought memories bubbling to the surface of Owain’s mind—memories of faces and smells and feelings he’d rather forget. Was it only three days since that horrible night? Did his parents still lie on the forest floor, their eyes empty and unseeing? Or had the Grimleal burned the fallen? He stood, lost in his own horror, until Cynthia took his sleeve. “I need to get to the stables,” she said, face pale. “I have to find Avis, or a replacement if he’s not there.”

Owain nodded, pulling himself out of the whirlpool of his thoughts. “We should go past the libraries—the smoke isn’t as thick there.”

“’We’?” Cynthia repeated. “Who said you’re coming with me?”

In truth, the idea of _not_ accompanying her hadn’t occurred to him and he was taken aback at the suggestion. “What nonsense are you speaking? Of course I’m coming with you. I’m the hero here. You don’t even have your lance. What were you expecting to do, punch the Grimleal in the face?”

She blinked at him, then smiled. “If I had to. But alright, then, if you’re sure.”

Lucina cut into their conversation before he could reply. “As a matter of fact, we’re making it a group trip,” she said, sheathing Falchion and backing away from the barricade wall. “There’s no reason to stay here. Inigo, grab Yarne. We’re leaving.”

As expected, Yarne was pessimistic about the plan. “So we’re going to the stables,” he huffed, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “Then what? Hide there until they find us? What if they’re already there?”

Severa was fast getting annoyed, so Inigo answered quickly. “Once we find a pegasus for Cynthia, we become a lot more mobile. We could try to cross into Regna Ferox.”

"We head for Mount Prism,” Lucina stated flatly. “Perhaps Naga may open the portal early for us.”

“And if she doesn’t? What if the portal never opens?” Yarne asked plaintively.

Severa hip checked the Taguel into the wall. “Shut up, rabbit boy, and keep running,” she snarled.

oOoOo

**Training Grounds, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

“You’re what?” Elise asked, sure she’d misheard.

Nyx closed her eyes and cursed silently. “I’m your new magic instructor. I’m going to tutor you in magical battle and strategy.”

“I don’t need another magic tutor,” Elise protested. “I already have one I’m satisfied with.”

Nyx was one of the few soldiers shorter than Elise, but her authoritative aura made her seem twice her true height. “Believe me, child, I do not relish having to teach you, either,” she said, glowering at her pupil. “But I have no choice in the matter, so I would appreciate cooperation on your part.”

Elise was only becoming more confused. “What’s compelling you?”

“Your Lord brother,” Nyx answered, exasperated. “I see he failed to inform you of the arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“He informed me that I was to teach you magic in exchange for fewer shifts on the night watch. I told him I’d rather have the night watch and he said this wasn’t a request, so here we are. Now can we begin the lesson? I’m to report back to him afterwards.”

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Elise replied. “It’s just…Odin usually meets me and tutors me around this time. It might hurt his feelings if he thinks I’ve replaced him.” Granted, she hadn’t trained with or truly talked to him in nearly a fortnight…but she was still sure that his behavior was temporary and due to some sort of miscommunication that would be cleared up soon.

Nyx tilted her head and gave the princess an odd look, her childlike face scrunching. “Are you not aware of Odin’s orders?” When Elise shook her head, Nyx narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what game is being played here…Odin is under Lord Leo’s orders not to talk to or be near you.”

Elise blinked. “He’s…what? Why?”

“Lord Leo believes Odin is a bad influence over your behavior. Personally, I agree with his decision, though I don’t hold with all this secrecy.” If the prince didn’t trust Odin around his sister, Nyx didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just leave the man in some outrealm and find a new retainer. The army would be a more respectable (and quieter) place.

Dumbfounded, Elise stared at the tiny dark mage. When she finally regained control of her face, she made a sound halfway between a gasp and a squawk of outrage. The last two weeks suddenly made sense when viewed in this new light. So that was why he…and then when she’d chased him he’d…and all that nonsense with Silas…? She’d been the one torturing _him_ , hadn’t she? Had he gotten in trouble on her account? Had Leo…?

Leo! Elise clutched her tome to her chest and scowled harder than she’d ever scowled, even harder than the time Xander sent her to bed at noon for impertinence when she was a child. Stupid Leo! She could feel her skin glowing with anger as she stomped towards the exit of the training grounds. Nyx watched her go, pleased that her afternoon had just seemingly freed up. “Shall I consider our lesson cancelled?” She called after the princess.

“You bet it’s cancelled!” Elise called back over her shoulder. “Permanently!”

Oh, she’d _show_ her dumb big brother what bad behavior was.

oOoOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah…so I got a new job, moved to a new state, moved in with my fiancé, and have been trying to introduce my boy cat to his boy cat…that’s why I’ve been AWOL. I’m sorry! I should be back to a better timing now that I’m settled in.
> 
> Also I know that my timeline doesn't match the canon Awakening timeline for what happened with Grima and the kids. But, like, FE time makes no sense I swear. So just, uh, squint your eyes and tilt your head. 
> 
> @Lulafia: Welcome and thank you so much for your kind comment! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!!
> 
> @LilacMist: I'm equal parts sorry and not sorry. Muahaha xD I hope you liked this chapter too!
> 
> @LemonyDave: Your wish is my command, milord! I think you'll like next chapter...
> 
> @Assertingfire: Everyone is scarred! You get a scar! You get a scar! Look under your chair--it's a scar!!


	10. Hope Must be Grasped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus over! Thank you for your patience while I got my life together! I have an extra-long chapter here as penance.

**Pegasus Paddock and Stables, Ylisstol**

Cynthia didn’t cry when she found Avis’ body at the outskirts of the pegasus paddock. She riffled through the saddlebags on the side of his body she could access, kissed his bloody nose, and entered the paddock, hoping to find a pegasus who was alive and not traumatized. Her hopes were dashed when she threw open the door of the stables to find that the few remaining pegasi had had their throats slit.

Her eyes filled with tears at this act of savagery, but she blinked them away and turned back to the group. They groaned as a group when she shook her head wordlessly. “Gods,” Lucina muttered, poking her own head into the stables and cringing at the carnage. “We’ll have to try to find regular horses or escape on foot.”

“Give me a second,” Cynthia said, digging through a pile of supplies near the door. “Ah!” She pulled out a long, thin spear. “This will work well. I dislike being unarmed.”

Lucina nodded and then jerked her head. “We need to leave if you have no further business here.”

Cynthia strapped the spear to her back with a harness and closed the door to the stables. “I’m ready.”

Severa peered around the side of the stables. “There aren’t any Grimleal this way. We can get to the stables if we use avoid the training grounds and go through the gardens. The gates are usually locked but we can use the hole near the pomegranate trees to get through.”

“I _told_ you knocking a hole in the gate years ago was a good idea,” Owain chided as they snuck around the wall, staying close to the ground. “You all wanted to tell my mother on me. I bet you feel silly now, don’t you? That’ll teach you to distrust my hero instincts.”

oOoOo

There were few horses left and not enough for all of them, so they doubled up as much as the horses could bear. Lucina got her own horse, a glossy mare with white fetlocks. As the others quibbled lightly about seating arrangements, Severa paused. “Hey, bunny boy. Don’t you have a beaststone in that bag of yours?”

Yarne grimaced. “Yes…”

“Great. You don’t need a horse then, right? Make yourself useful and run alongside us.”

“What?” Yarne cried, scowling. “Why should I have to do that? I can’t keep up with horses!”

Severa snorted. “Bullshit. I’ve seen your mother run. Get to hopping.” She turned her glare to Inigo. “Why do I have to sit behind you?”

Climbing up behind Cynthia, Owain rolled his eyes. “Just do it, Severa. We have to go.” Smoke was beginning to filter into the stable, hinting that the battle was moving nearer.

“Fine,” Severa growled. “You better not enjoy me holding on to your waist, Pervert Prince.”

Inigo sighed. “Hold on to my shoulders, then.”

Severa didn’t reply and wrapped her arms around his waist anyway.

“I don’t know much about horses,” Cynthia whispered to Owain in a worried tone. “They’re different from pegasi. You’d better hold on tight.”

Lucina returned from a check of the perimeter and took her horse by the bridle. “We’re clear for the moment. Let’s go.”

She mounted her horse and led them through the doors. Noire followed, then Inigo, and finally Cynthia’s steed lurched forward. Owain clung to her torso, pleased and terrified.

A group of Grimleal scouts spotted them three-quarters of the way across the back entrance to the castle grounds and initiated a fight that lasted only a moment. In his Taguel form, Yarne was strong, and Cynthia was better at riding and fighting atop a horse than she’d expected. Owain hadn’t even had to unsheathe his sword—she’d pulled out her lance and skewered one of the Grimleal through the jaw before he could react.

“Ugh,” she muttered, pulling the weapon from the foe’s face and flicking the blood from its tip. She still hated war. It was somehow unfair that she was so talented at it when she had no interest.

As they passed through the castle’s back gate, Lucina turned back to look at the blazing, crumbling building. She mouthed something that Owain couldn't make out. For a moment, pain burned bright in her eyes, then she turned her head to the horizon.

oOoOo

**Road to Mount Prism, Ylisse**

They’d reached the foothills of Mount Prism by midday and the group stopped to rest both Yarne and the horses. Owain had a horrible realization in the midst of nibbling on dried cranberries and bread. “How are the others going to know where we are? We told them we’d be in Ylisstol.”

Cynthia’s mouth dropped open in horror and she turned to Inigo, who paused over his own meal. “Whoa, whoah, that’s a good point,” he agreed. “Did anyone think about that?”

Lucina’s face tightened and she continued adjusting the straps on her horse’s saddle. “I realized before we left.”

“And?” Owain demanded. “Are we just going to leave them?”

“Most of our absent peers were against our plan,” Lucina reminded him darkly. “I doubt they were returning to our side regardless. If any were, I can only hope they see Ylisstol burning from a distance and recognize that this would be our alternate meeting spot.”

“Could we send up a flare?” Cynthia suggested. “It might help them find us if they followed us.”

Noire shook her head from where she sat beside the silent Morgan. “It would almost certainly attract more than our friends,” she argued. “It’s a risk we’d be fools to take.”

“We have roughly six hours left. We should spend them with care. I don’t think we could survive being found by a proper tracking company,” Lucina agreed. “The others made their choices when they separated from us three days ago.”

Though he hated it, Owain couldn’t deny that she was correct. He looked down at his food and breathed heavily, heartsick in so many ways. “I’m satisfied,” he whispered to Cynthia, knowing that she would accept any extra food offered. “You want this?”

Hands now empty, he stood up and walked over to where Noire and Morgan sat. Morgan’s eyes didn’t move when he crouched next to her. “How is she?” He asked Noire quietly.

Noire frowned, annoyance flickering behind her concern. “She’ll obey any direct commands I give her, but she still won’t speak, no matter what I say or do.” She looked at her sister, whose dark hair had partially come undone from the long plaits Noire had put her hair in for bed the night before. The annoyance in her face softened and she put her hand on the girl’s head. “I thought all the abuse my mother had put us through would have made her mind strong,” she said frankly. “Perhaps it wore her down instead.”

Owain looked over at her, unnerved. She and Morgan had always been tight lipped about their mother even though everyone could tell something wasn’t right when they were children. The way they jumped at loud sounds…the way they looked like they never slept well…the way they had always responded too quickly and too cheerfully to Tharja—as if they were trying to keep her happy because they knew what might happen if they didn’t.

How had Robin allowed it? Surely he’d known. Granted, he’d been away for much of the girls’ childhood, but still.

Had he been complicit? Was the darkness in his soul already there, lying dormant and waiting for someone to tease it into the light? Is that why he resonated so well with Tharja to begin with?

A disturbing suspicion came to his mind and he toyed with it for a moment. Had they all missed some signal, some twinkling of darkness that could have warned them what Robin could turn into? It didn’t mesh with his memories of a smiling, helpful Robin who was always ready to explain something or fix a broken toy.

For a moment, he completely forgot who he was talking to and foolishly voiced his thoughts aloud. “Do you think Robin could have been evil from the beginning and we missed it?” He asked.

 _SLAP_.

Noire had slapped him, far harder than she had slapped Morgan before. Wrath rose on her face and her expression contorted as she spoke. “YOU DARE TO SPEAK OF MY FATHER LIKE THAT, YOU WORM?”

Ignoring his stinging cheek, Owain cursed and scrambled backwards, but Noire was on him in an instant. “TAKE IT BACK,” she bellowed, spit hitting his face from her shouted demand.

“I take it back!” Owain cried, holding up his arms as she reared back to strike again.

The strike never came and when he opened his eyes, he found Lucina holding Noire’s arm back. “Peace, Noire,” she said soothingly. “He didn’t mean what he said. We all know what happened to your father and mine.”

The horrible rage disappeared from Noire’s face instantly, like the snapping of a twig. “I…I’m sorry, Owain…I just…” Tears filled her eyes and she sat back heavily on the grass. “My father isn’t a monster. I know he isn’t.”

“Of course he’s not,” Lucina agreed, still holding her hand like a big sister. “Whoever killed my father took yours and performed dark magic upon him. I’m sure there’s nothing left of Robin inside that…that body we saw. It’s only a shell now. Our Robin would never hurt his friends. I believe that with all my heart.”

“How can…how can we go back to the past and look him in the face after seeing him the way he was back…back _there_ …” Noire sniffled. “How can we?”

“It wasn’t Robin’s fault,” Lucina announced loudly enough for everyone to hear. “We have nothing to fear from him when we meet him again. As long as we keep him from whoever killed my father, we can trust him to be the same man he ever was. Full stop.”

Noire nodded dumbly, then spoke again, swiping tears from her cheeks. “How can we explain Morgan to them? Our parents from the future, I mean. How can we explain what happened to her to damage her so badly?” She turned back to where Morgan sat, still staring into the air without any expression on her face.

Cynthia knelt between Noire and Owain, putting a hand on them both. “We don’t have to. We can say she was traumatized in battle and leave it at that.”

Lucina nodded. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want Robin’s part in the Grimleal’s last battle to ever be heard outside of our little group. I’ll warn my father that Robin needs to be protected from the Grimleal at all costs, but I think letting them know what happened would drive a wedge of distrust between the army and its invaluable tactician.”

Unsure whether or not he agreed, Owain said nothing. Inigo, who had joined the little meeting with Severa, began to argue, but his sister cut him off. “This is my first and only command as your Exalt,” Lucina said, standing and looking down at them. “No one is to speak of what happened to Robin. Is that understood?”

As a group, the rest of the teenagers nodded their heads. They hadn’t come to the conclusion on their own that Lucina was now rightfully the Exalt and it hit them hard. She was, wasn’t she? Lissa and Chrom were dead.

“I don’t mean to alarm you guys,” a voice said from behind. They turned to see Yarne looking at the sky, fear on his face. “I just saw a dragon fly over. It was high, so I thought it might have missed us, but I just saw it again.”

“We’ve been spotted,” Severa hissed, reaching for her sword.

Lucina immediately began to spout orders, setting up a defensive position. “This isn’t where I wanted to make a stand,” she said through gritted teeth, “but it may have to do. The portal should open soon.”

From somewhere high above, they heard a dragon’s roar and braced themselves. “It’s getting lower,” Yarne quavered. His sensitive ears pricked and he swiveled to look back down the path they’d used to ride to Mount Prism. “I hear footsteps. There are more of them.”

“Inigo, Severa, Owain—at my side,” Lucina ordered. “Noire, take Morgan and snipe from the back lines. Cynthia, defend Noire. Yarne, you know what to do.”

Trembling, the Taguel pulled his beaststone from a pouch and held it aloft. He made to transform, but aborted halfway through and stared harder down the path. When Severa started to snip, he held a hand up to silence her. “Wait…I hear…I know that voice. That’s Brady.”

“Brady?” Cynthia repeated skeptically.

“It’s Brady or I’m a common forest hare. I’d know that drawl anywhere,” Yarne retorted. He listened harder and his face lit up. “Laurent is with him.”

Lucina looked at the sky. “Then the dragon…” Hope spread on her face, starting with the unknotting of her brows and finally turning into a small smile. “They came.”

Cynthia called down the path and, as Yarne had said, Brady’s voice replied faintly. As soon as they glimpsed the top of the priest’s familiar staff, they ran to greet him. Nah and Laurent were with him and Kjelle puffed up the path soon after. Hugs and back thumps were exchanged all around, much to the chagrin of a disapproving Laurent. “I’m glad we found ya,” Brady said, throwing his arms around Severa and Inigo. “When we saw what had happened to the castle we thought y’all were goners fer sure.”

“After much thought, we decided that you would head to Mount Prism if you were alive,” Laurent explained.

Owain scoffed. “’If we were alive’. Do you have so little faith in us?”

Laurent frowned. “In case you didn’t notice, the Grimleal have managed to resurrect the fell dragon Grima and, when we saw him, he was incinerating Ylisstol. I think you can forgive us for considering all scenarios.”

The wind thrummed and the mage clamped a hand over his hat, keeping it from flying off his head. Owain turned toward the sound to see Gerome landing Minerva gently on the grass. When she was settled, he swung down from his saddle and approached the group. “I see everyone is present.”

“No thanks to you,” Severa groused. “Your dragon would have been a lot of help when we were riding out to this godsforsaken mountain. Yarne had to run the whole way.”

“You’re the one who made me run,” Yarne reminded her sourly. She ignored him.

Inigo grinned at them all. “So you’re coming with us, I take it?”

“We recalculated our reasoning and decided this was a better path.” Laurent adjusted his glasses primly. “Changing one’s decisions when faced with compelling data and argument is a sign of a well-adjusted mind.”

“Just admit you were wrong,” Severa snipped.

Lucina, who had been quiet, spoke. “I’m…” Her voice broke and they turned to see her eyes bright with happy tears. “I’m just so happy you all came. Thank you.”

Kjelle nudged Laurent aside and stuck out her heavily armored hand, grasping forearms with the new Exalt. “We’re with you until the end,” she said, smiling warmly at her friend. “I’m sorry it took us this long.” Nah, Laurent, Brady, and Gerome all nodded their agreement and Lucina wiped her eyes, smiling gratefully.

Now that the mood had lightened, Severa felt obligated to bring them all back to reality. “Where’s this portal of yours?” She asked.

Lucina looked up at the sky, noting the position of the sun. “It should open anytime now. We only have to wait.”

oOoOo

The sun was just beginning to sink when the air pressure dropped and the hair on the teenagers’ skin stood up. A sound unlike anything Owain had ever heard rent the evening and he stood, looking around wildly for the source. “Look!” Nah called out, pointing up the road.

To everyone’s amazement, glowing symbols began to write themselves in the air, forming an enormous circle. The circle, completed, pulsed with light and then split in half, taking the very air along as the halves separated. Like a window into the gods’ realm, the middle of the portal rippled and glimmered with an otherworldly glow. It was beautiful and terrifying, the way Tharja used to be.

Lucina, Falchion in hand, approached it. “Naga has opened our path,” she said, turning back to her companions. “I don’t know how long it will remain open, so as soon as we get the signal from Naga, we should enter.”

“Will it spit us back out here on Mount Prism, only in the past?” Cynthia asked, gaping at it.

Lucina shook her head. “I don’t know. Naga didn’t say. No matter where it spits us out, though, I’m sure we’ll be together.”

“And if not?” Inigo asked quietly.

The glow of the portal reflected off of Falchion, making the blade seem to swirl like magical magma. Lucina tightened her grip on the sword. “I will find you,” she promised. “Every one of you.”

Gerome approached her, holding something in his hands. “Take this,” he said, offering it to the princess.

“What’s this?” Lucina asked, holding it up. It was dark and shaped like a butterfly. “A mask? Is now really the time for your theatrics?”

Gerome scowled, his eyes hidden behind his own mask. “It’s not for _theatrics_ ,” he growled. “Have you forgotten yourself? How can you walk about unnoticed in the past with the Brand shining out of your eye like a beacon?” Owain frowned. He should do something about the Brand on his own hand, shouldn’t he? He had nothing to cover it now, though, so he’d have to wait.

Tilting her head, Lucina stared at the mask. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She lifted it to her face, fitting it over her eyes. “Thank you, Gerome.”

He grunted, surveying her critically. “You should tie your hair up also. People are sadly less likely to take a woman seriously.”

Lucina frowned, but did as he suggested. “How do I look now?” She asked self-consciously.

Gerome shrugged, turning away. Inigo smirked at him and then examined his sister himself. “I rather like it. You look like…who was it again?”

“Marth,” Laurent offered, coming forward. “You resemble the paintings of the legendary Hero King. Am I wrong?”

“Wow!” Cynthia gasped. “You’re right! You’re a dead ringer!”

Owain struck a pose. “We’ve exceeded previously anticipated levels of awesome,” he stated. “A legendary troupe, lead by the Hero King himself! Or herself, as it is,” he amended.

Lucina held up her hands to silence them, embarrassed. Behind her, the churning light inside the portal turned gold. “It’s time,” she announced, beckoning. “Let’s go.”

As the words left her lips, an arrow whistled from the trees around them and embedded itself in her thigh. She gasped in pain, then in horror as more arrows began to fly. “They’ve found us!” Noire screamed, backing away from the treeline.

People emerged from the trees, their cloaks marking them as Grimleal. The ground boiled at Owain’s feet and he jumped back as a Risen reached a claw out of the earth, swiping at the empty air. He drew his sword and plunged it into the creature’s head until it dispersed into a cloud of dark fog. “Cynthia!” he yelled, looking around for her orange hair.

“I’m here!” She called, but a Grimleal faithful stepped in her path. She bared her teeth, brandishing her spear.

Above the din, Lucina’s voice cut through. “INTO THE PORTAL!” She screamed. “I won’t enter until all of you are through!”

Knocking a Risen aside, Owain looked up to see Gerome sprint though the portal. Minerva followed at his heels, having been summoned by his whistle as soon as the ambush began. Kjelle slowly made her way to the portal, sheltering Noire and Morgan. Noire all but tossed Morgan in before plunging through herself. Kjelle, ignoring Lucina’s shouted instructions, moved to shield the Exalt from attack.

“Owain!” Cynthia cried, though he couldn’t tell from where. He finally caught sight of her moving towards the portal, but a Grimleal took advantage of his lack of attention to knock him in the head with the butt of a staff. “Go on!” He called to the pegasus knight, blocking another blow with his sword. “I’ll be right behind you!”

She stood and wrung her hands for a moment, but when he scolded her, she nodded. Just before she stepped through, she turned to look at him one more time. The intensity in her gaze nearly took his breath away. Her eyes spoke a promise— _I’ll be waiting_ —and also an unspoken desperation.

With an annoyed shout, Severa ran up behind her and kicked her into the portal. She turned to Owain and flipped him off with both hands before jumping into the light herself. A Risen slumped into the portal behind her and was also whisked away. Noticing, some of the Grimleal began to enter the portal also. Lucina and Kjelle stepped in front, fending as many off as they could. Despite their efforts, Grimleal and Risen alike leaked into the light.

As irritated with Severa as he was, Owain was glad Cynthia was through the portal and, hopefully, safe. He refocused on fighting, moving up the path himself. Inigo stepped beside him, helping him parry a blow from an axe fighter. “After you,” the prince said, knocking the fighter back with his shoulder. Owain touched his shoulder, then jumped into the light.

One by one, the rest of the group made it to the portal. When no one was left, Kjelle entered. Lucina kissed Falchion and held it to her chest. _I’m sorry I failed you, Father,_ she thought, clenching her teeth. _I will change your fate; I swear it._ With that, she stepped into the past.

Instantly the portal went dark. The glowing symbols winked out until nothing remained on the path but bodies and the smell of blood.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**Nohrin War Tent, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

            Leo had expected his little sister to show up eventually to complain about his meddling in her affairs. She was feisty, tenacious—bratty, even. She could be unreasonable. Leo felt justified in making decisions without consulting her because, despite her shrill protestations, she was usually forced to acknowledge that his actions had been the right ones after all. Sometimes she pouted and sometimes she whined, but in the end she was just little Elise and her tantrums didn’t scare him.

This was why, when the Nohrian prince felt a cloud of terror approaching, he expected someone like Takumi (who was made of outrage and hot air) or Oboro (whose frown made Hayato cry) to step through the tent flap. He looked up from where he had been discussing resource allocation with Camilla and Xander and was surprised to see his little sister in the doorway with a truly demonic expression on her face. “I’ve found you!” She announced, pointing at him accusingly.

Leo glanced at his older siblings. Camilla looked excited, but Xander’s face was blank. Leo tried to keep his own face neutral as he picked up his teacup and drank from it. “So you have. What is so important you feel you can interrupt our meeting?”

Elise stomped farther into the room, eyes narrowed in irritation. “You’re the reason Odin’s been avoiding me, aren’t you? You told him he wasn’t allowed to talk to me anymore!”

“What I do with my retainers is my own business,” Leo replied icily. “Though I’m curious how you came by this little bit of information. Did Odin tell you? Or Niles?”

“It was neither of them,” Elise said. “Don’t you even think of getting mad at Odin again for something that isn’t his fault.” Leo didn’t reply and only looked at her as if waiting for her tantrum to pass. Having her concerns brushed aside so carelessly stoked her flames of rage and she realized she’d have to up her ante to make her big brother take her seriously. “You’re going to call Odin in and rescind your order right this minute,” she informed him.

Leo smiled that infuriatingly satisfied smile of his. “I most certainly am not. While Odin is an invaluable addition to our army, his behavior is questionable at best and not something you need to be exposed to. Xander and Camilla agree with me.”

Xander said nothing, but Camilla rubbed a finger around the rim of her teacup. “I don’t remember saying anything like that,” she disagreed mildly.

“I don’t give a Faceless’ arse what Camilla and Xander have to say about it,” Elise snapped, bringing a smile to her sister’s face and a shocked frown to her oldest brother’s. “None of you are in charge of my life or have any right to butt into my relationships.”

“You’re right about that,” Leo replied, no longer smiling. “But I _am_ in charge of Odin’s life and I will protect you by using that power if I have to.”

Elise stomped her foot. “ _Ugh!_ I don’t need your protection! That’s so wrong! It’s a misuse of your power as a prince! He may be your retainer, but he’s also a person. He has rights and feelings just like any other man. How can you call yourself a fair ruler when you curb others’ rights?”

Leo set down his teacup, finally drawn into the fight by her degradation of his leadership abilities. Having spent his whole life in Xander’s shadow, his position and performance as a prince of Nohr was a sensitive subject for him and his siblings knew it. “Don’t tell me how to be a royal, little sister.” He breathed deeply, in through his nostrils and out through his mouth, just the way Princess Hinoka’s strange priest retainer had taught him. The action calmed him down enough to keep his words even. “You’re acting like a child right now. You know nothing of what it means to truly control your retainers. They’re not just babysitters.”

Elise gasped and Xander and Camilla’s eyes flicked over to Leo with some concern. Was he really going to stoop so low as to insinuate her retainers were glorified caretakers?

“How could you say…?” Elise began, visibly shaking. “I take good care of my retainers and they respect me. Just because you’re older you can’t…you know why I’m never involved in any of the official war plans and royal duties? I’m never in any of the meetings because I’ve never been welcome! You act like I’m perpetually ten years old—of course I’ve stopped trying to prove you wrong!”

“You’ve always been w--”

“That’s a lie and you know it! Anytime I try to be helpful or make suggestions or share ideas I get patted on the head like a clever five-year-old,” Elise argued. “I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. Sure, I don’t get some of your terminology and I’m not as gifted with strategy as you, but every time I’ve asked for clarification, you act like I’m wasting your time.” She sighed. “Why would I keep trying when I know you feel that way?”

His tea having gone lukewarm, Leo abandoned his attempts to sip it like Elise’s words weren’t affecting him. “I apologize if you feel like we’ve underestimated you,” he said honestly. “You have to admit, however, that you don’t act your age and willingly engage in inappropriate behavior. Just recently you shamed half of Hoshidan royal family by pulling them into your childish antics in the mess hall. Surely you understand why, as your older siblings and royals of Nohr, we feel compelled to protect you and your image.”

It was Elise’s turn to feel the sting of the truth in Leo’s words. She didn’t act much like a proper lady, let alone a princess, it was true. She couldn’t find words to argue against her brother and he took the opening to press his point. “It’s not that we think you incapable of official business; quite frankly you’ve never shown much of an interest,” he said, regaining his dignity as an older brother. “Your natural aptitude isn’t for the battlefield. Am I wrong?”

“I…” Elise looked at the dust covering the toes of her boots and suddenly remembered Odin’s words from a day gone past. “My values are different from yours. That’s all.” She looked back up, setting her face in a stubborn glare. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not like you three; it’s true. I don’t live for war…but that doesn’t make me useless. Being gentle doesn’t make me weak.”

Where was all this sudden wisdom coming from? Leo stared at his little sister, unused to the idea of her scolding him and potentially being right. “Technically being gentle _is_ being weak,” he grumbled, unwilling to concede any more ground. “In a situation like ours, gentleness can be the gateway to death.”

“You’re wrong,” Elise said staunchly. “There has to be balance. And we won’t always be in this situation. When this war is over, someone has to help our people pick up all the pieces. Do you think your battle strategies will comfort all the parents whose children we’ve led to their deaths? Ha!” When no one rebutted her words, she crossed her arms. “You know who helped me figure all this out? Odin.”

Leo threw a glance over at Xander, looking for support. The crown prince took a deep breath, trying to find his own words. “Elise, I don’t think now is the best—”

“You’re not involved in this!” Elise cut him off. “Leo, call Odin here and tell him you were wrong and he can spend time with anyone he wants. Now.”

“Just you hold on a moment,” Leo protested weakly, feeling as if his thoughts had been scrambled like egg yolks. “What are your intentions with my retainer, anyway? Do you have some sort of feelings for him?”

Elise’s immediate flushing was his answer, but she replied anyway. “That’s my own business!”

Leo’s voice took on a pleading edge. “I know you’re of age for this sort of thing, but surely there’s someone else in this army you can pursue.”

Camilla finally interjected, looking entertained. She was like Niles in this way, her siblings thought privately. Both of them thrived on chaos and drama. “What’s wrong with Odin?” She asked, sounding wounded. “I think he’s a dear boy, myself.”

“Camilla,” Xander warned. “Don’t encourage this. You know as well as the rest of us that he can be…different.”

“He’s strange,” Leo corrected him. “As his liege I know this better than all of you.”

Elise’s face was heating up with anger again. “He’s not strange. Don’t say that. Maybe you’re the strange one!”

“You could do better,” Leo said, feeling as if he’d gained the upper hand in this argument. “He’s not suitable for you.”

Xander nodded an agreement. “You should hold out for a better match. There’s no sense in expending energy on spur of the moment excitement.”

Elise emitted an un-princess-like snort. “You expend plenty of energy on ‘spur of the moment excitement,’ big brother. How long has it been since Laslow has been able to sleep in your tent? Seems to me he spends more time sleeping outside than in.”

Barely noticeable color rose in Xander’s cheeks, but he refused to show weakness. “Might I remind you how inappropriate it is to become involved with the royal retainers?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

A vein began to pulse in Elise’s forehead and she deadpanned her brother. “Are you kidding me right now? Is this a joke?”

“We’re being serious, I assure you,” Leo said, closing his eyes and nodding haughtily. He picked up his teacup and a biscuit again, dipping the biscuit in the cold tea to show that he was finished with this conversation. “Your designs on my retainer are unacceptable. As a princess, your relationships must be above reproach.”

“Leo speaks wise words.” Xander put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, unconsciously mirroring his expression of righteousness. “Find someone who is neither strange nor a royal retainer and we will bless your romantic endeavors.”

Elise looked between their faces, her own expression becoming darker by the second. “You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you…?” She said between gritted teeth, pulling a green tome out of her training knapsack.

oOoOo

Odin stalked around camp, looking for his partner. Niles had promised to meet him to discuss a new strategy for protecting Lord Leo’s flanks, but the meeting time had come and gone and the archer was nowhere to be found. _Where are you?_ Odin thought irritably. Everything had been a mess lately and he was tired of it. His secret book of Names of Great Consequence had been moved from its hiding place between his sheets and his cot and he was sure that either Laslow or Niles were planning to use it to embarrass him. Why couldn’t people leave him be?

He finally caught sight of Niles crouched outside the Nohrian War Tent, biting his fist in a mostly successful attempt to stifle his gleeful giggles. Wondering what his partner was listening in on, Odin stepped quietly closer to the tent. Muffled voices were speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words through the thick canvas.

“What are you doing?” Odin hissed, trying to signal Niles to move away from the closed tent flaps and toward him. “You’re late for our darkly destined discussion!”

“Do hush,” Niles hissed back, holding in snorts of laughter and having trouble speaking because of it. “And go away,” he whispered, gesturing for Odin to leave. “This isn’t for your ears.”

Naturally, this only piqued the dark mage’s curiosity further. “Is Lord Leo in there? Is he talking about me?”

Niles shrugged. “Who knows? Go name a parsnip field or something. I’ll come find you when—”

An intense wind suddenly erupted from the tent, blasting through the fabric and attracting the attention of the two men as well as Azura and Orochi, who were chatting and eating buns nearby. “—KNOW YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH PERI WHO IS NOT ONLY A ROYAL RETAINER BUT _YOUR_ RETAINER! LECTURE ME ABOUT APPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIPS AGAIN; I DARE YOU!” Elise yelled from inside. Odin heard her take a deep breath and continue. “AND AS FOR _YOU_ , DON’T ACT LIKE WHATEVER YOU’VE GOT GOING ON WITH BIG SISTER CORRIN IS SOME SORT OF A SECRET! EVERYONE KNOWS! AND YOU CAN’T EVEN WEAR YOUR ARMOR CORRECTLY HALF THE TIME! SO IF I HEAR EITHER OF YOU SAY THE WORD ‘STRANGE’ AGAIN I’LL BURN YOUR TENTS DOWN!”

Apparently finished, Elise exited the tent in a bluster and nearly knocked into Odin, who wasn’t sure what he’d just heard. “Oh, Odin,” she said breathlessly, as if she hadn’t expected him to be there. “Big brother Leo wants to speak with you, and then it’s time for our lesson. I’ll be waiting for you in the training grounds!” she informed him cheerfully before marching away, head held high.

Odin looked around. Orochi, whose cards had been scattered by the wind, was pointedly humming a blithe Hoshidan tune and attempting to look uninterested. Beside her, Azura was wide-eyed and silent. When she met Odin’s gaze, she pressed her lips together and shrugged slightly.

Niles was on the ground, stifling snorts around his fist. He looked up, met Odin’s confused eyes, and looked away, overcome in a fresh paroxysm of amusement. Without speaking, he jerked his head toward the tent, urging Odin to go in. When he shook his head, Niles stopped laughing and rolled his eyes. “Milord,” he called, giggles threatening to spill over again. “I’ve found Odin. Would you…” He snorted, interrupting himself. “Would you like to speak with him?”

A pause, then Leo’s voice came from behind the tent flaps. “Yes, that’s…send him in.”

Odin entered the pavilion nervously. The three oldest Nohrian siblings sat silently inside in various states of shock. Leo’s hair had been blasted back and his armor was covered in what seemed to be the contents of his teacup and the crumbs from what might have been biscuits. Xander sat beside him with a thousand-yard stare, looking as if someone had just informed him of his impending engagement to all of the Hoshidan royals at once. Only Camilla was undisturbed, though she seemed, like Niles, to have developed an incurable case of the giggles.

“I’ve rethought my earlier decision to bar you from interacting with my sister,” Leo said slowly, his voice higher pitched than usual. “You may resume your training as soon as, er, she wants.”

Camilla continued to titter as Xander reached up and dislodged a knife from the wall beside his face. “…She threw a dagger _at my head,_ ” He mumbled, staring at the weapon in his hand. “Was she trying to hit me or not? I can’t tell…”

Camilla giggled harder.

Looking from one royal to the next, Odin decided it was time to take his leave. Somehow this felt like his fault. “Understood, milord. Er…my apologies for…whatever just happened.”

oOoOoOo

As she’d promised Odin, the youngest Nohrian princess waiting in the training grounds, already changed into her training tunic. It seemed she’d been digging holes in the dirt with the toe of her shoe while waiting; there were divots in the ground all around her. When she heard him approach, she straightened into a stiff, attentive posture. “Ready for lessons!” she called, trying to grin in a natural way and failing.

Odin felt the tension and questions in the air and wasn’t sure what to say. Did she want to pretend the last few weeks hadn’t happened or…? He’d like to discuss it, though, and make sure she had the right idea about the whole affair. He finally stood in front of her, having difficulty meeting her eyes for more than a moment at a time. “Greetings, small vessel of magnanimity! The voices of the depths are beseeching us to commune with them and accept our umbral blessings!”

“Yeah! Umbral blessings!” Elise cheered.

The gate to the training grounds clicked and they turned to see Subaki and Hana entering. Both passed their eyes over the pair and continued on without greetings. _Typical_ , Odin thought. He turned back to Elise and considered digging a hole of his own. “Er, did you throw a dagger at your brother?”

Elise’s ears turned pink, but the rest of her face stayed neutral. “Maybe,” she replied.

“May I ask why?”

“Xander has a tendency to think that every conversation is a conversation he’s invited to. I had to strongly remind him that he’s wrong.”

Odin nodded. “And, er, did this conversation having anything to do with my Lord Leo rescinding his policy on our interactions?”

“I only helped him see the flaws in his logic,” Elise replied staunchly.

“It looked to me like you hit him with a particularly potent blast of _Wind_ ,” Odin pointed out.

Elise shrugged. “That too.”

Despite the awkwardness still lingering, Odin couldn’t help but smile. She’d really blasted his liege with the magic he’d taught her just so she could spend time with him. He’d felt flattered many times from the things she’d said to him, but this was even more intense. She hadn’t just said some nice words—she’d really gone to bat for him. In the army, it was standard to fight the enemy in defense of even your least favorite cohort.

It was an entirely different matter to fight your family to protect the weirdo who did a subpar job teaching you magic and dramatic nonsense.

Trying to control his face, he struck a pose. “Shall we, then? Shall we plumb the unending horrors of the lower sanctums?”

Elise hesitated, licking her lips. After a bit, she exhaled and nodded. “Yeah, let’s plunder the sanctions! I’m _so_ ready!”

oOoOo

Life returned much to normal. Without the imperative to avoid Elise, Odin returned to his usual, familiar routines. Elise became, once again, a constant in his life, though something was different. She didn’t follow him from place to place like a duckling or an adoring student anymore, instead finagling her own routine to coincide with his when convenient.

It took nearly a fortnight for him to realize she was actively avoiding him whenever he was with Laslow and Selena. One moment she was beside him, chattering about Nohrian holidays, and the next she’d disappeared. Looking behind, he found her running to catch up with Sakura, who had her arms full with a basket of herbs. _She didn’t say goodbye_ , he thought somewhat forlornly.

“Oi, stop spacing out,” a voice interrupted him.

He jumped. Somehow he’d missed Selena and Laslow approaching from his left. “Whoa!” He cried, flinching. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! You know I can’t control my twitching sword hand.”

Selena rolled her eyes, unamused, and Laslow grinned. “Sorry, mate. We weren’t trying to sneak,” he explained. “What has you so distracted?”

“Where’d Princess Sparkles go?” Selena asked, looking around. “Weren’t you walking with her?”

Odin shrugged. “She ran off all of a sudden. Perhaps she was summoned by the sacred mutterings of the twilight.”

Selena frowned, but said nothing. Laslow noticed the look on her face and tried to meet her eyes, but she huffed and turned away. The silver-haired mercenary looked over her head at Odin and winked. “Let’s go have tea, shall we? I procured a very aromatic Hoshidan blend.”

“You two have footwork drills in an hour,” Odin replied, looking at his best friend curiously. “And since when did you invite _me_ for tea?”

“It’s a quality blend,” Laslow explained. “You have to try it. After they smelled it, both Kagerou and Felicia agreed to have a cup with me.”

Odin raised an eyebrow. “How did that turn out? Did they fall for your most potent manly charms?”

“No,” Selena interrupted, scowling. “Kagerou brought her entire art collection and they all tried to guess what the blotches were until Felicia spilled her tea over the sketchbook. Kagerou then immediately used her weird ninja arts to disappear before anyone could see her cry.”

Laslow turned to the woman, shock on his face. “H-how did you know all that? We were alone in the Hoshidan community tent.”

Selena shrugged. “I just know, alright?”

Trying not to laugh, Odin turned to Laslow. “Well? Is this true?”

“Well…” Laslow mumbled. “It’s not…entirely…wrong. _Anyway_ , it’s excellent tea and I bought a lot of it, so you should both help me drink it.”

oOoOo

**Xander’s tent, Camp, Deeprealms in the Astral Planes**

Laslow hadn’t been lying; the tea _was_ good. Odin felt tension fall from his shoulders as the aroma filled his senses. It was earthy but somehow floral. Elise would like it. He made a mental note to tell her to ask Laslow for some, but then remembered Laslow would likely take it as a date. Maybe he could pilfer some from Laslow’s tent while he was sleeping?

The idea reminded him of a joke Niles had made earlier that afternoon. “Laslow, is Lord Xander kicking you out of his tent at night?” he asked.

Laslow flinched. “What? Where did you hear that?”

“Niles said you looked tired at breakfast and said he’d heard you were sleeping on the ground because you’d been kicked out of your tent.”

Laslow sighed. “It’s not exactly like that. I leave of my own choice.”

“For what reason?”

Selena warmed her hands on her own cup. “Is Peri sleep talking again? I know she was kicked out of Lord Xander’s tent at the beginning of this miserable war for muttering threats in her sleep. Didn’t she recently come back?”

Cringing, Laslow nodded. “She did indeed return.”

“I could use dark magic to seal her lips during the night,” Odin offered. “Alternately I could control her dreams and give her pleasant ones so if she talks, it’s not troublesome.”

“No,” Laslow replied. “She doesn’t need any more pleasant dreams, believe me. I’m fine outside, honestly. We’re lucky there’s no winter in the astral planes, though there are rather stiff winds sometimes.”

“You could at least sleep beside my cot if Lord Leo approves,” Odin offered.

Selena nodded her agreement. “You should do that. You’re going to get sick sleeping outside.” She was halfway to sipping her tea before she slammed it down and added hurriedly, “And you’re sure as _Firaga_ not sleeping near me.”

“Like I’d want to,” Laslow countered.

Selena narrowed her eyes, then reached over and upset his teacup. He yelped as the hot tea spilled in his lap. “Anyway, Odin. Care to explain why Lady Elise is attached to your hip again? I thought you’d gotten rid of her.”

“I never tried to _get rid_ of her,” Odin protested.

Selena’s face twisted in confusion. “Not long ago you said you’d told her to go away. That’s a weird way to maintain a friendship—not that you’d know much about those.”

Laslow shrugged, still dabbing tea off of his trousers. “Maybe he’s playing hard to get. That’s a viable strategy.”

“Has it ever worked for you?” Selena snapped.

“No.”

“Well, then.”

Odin shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to _do_ anything. With your penchant for knowing everything you shouldn’t, I'm surprised you hadn’t heard the full story, Severa.”

“Don’t call me that, idiot,” she growled. “What full story?”

“My most illustrious Lord Leo forbade me from being near her after the food fight incident. Somehow that was my fault even though I had no idea it was going to happen until Milord was decorated with blackberries.”

Selena tilted her head. “So that’s why…and then what? He just changed his mind? That’s not like him at all.”

Pouring himself another cup of tea and scooting it far away from Selena, Laslow interjected. “I heard from Niles that Lady Elise had a hand in convincing her brother.”

Surprised, Selena sat back. “And Lord Leo listened to her?”

“Well, she also blasted him with a powerful wind spell,” Odin admitted. “And I believe she threw one of Shura’s daggers at Lord Xander’s head. The jury is out as to whether or not she was aiming at him.”

Both Laslow and Selena gaped at him. “She went that far…for _you_?” Selena asked in disbelief.

Odin scowled. “You know, some people like being around me.”

Selena had no snappy comeback; she was still processing what she’d heard. Laslow looked at her again and then winked at Odin. “Well how about that, you cad? It must be all the time you’ve spent with me. My natural allure is rubbing off on you.”

“You have allure?” Odin asked teasingly.

Laslow groaned. “Not both of you. I can’t handle the cruelty from two sides at once.”

“I joke,” Odin assured him. “Sort of. In all honesty, though, I don’t think it’s like that. I think she values my mystical and legendary prowess on the battlefield and is eager to harness my magical control for herself.”

Selena scowled. “Are you serious?”

“Odin Dark is ever at his most serious,” Odin replied, sounding hurt.

Disgusted, she sat back again. “You are one of—no, _the_ dumbest person I know, Odin.”

Odin drank his tea, unperturbed. “That’s not news to me.”

“Odin,” Selena said, clenching her fist on the table. “How can you not see that she has an enormous, disgusting crush on you?”

Odin paused, cup still in his hand. “…what?”

“Am I wrong, Laslow?” Selena asked, looking over at the mercenary.

Laslow shrugged. “I suppose it could be interpreted that way.”

“There’s no _suppose_ about it,” Selena argued. “Any fool could see that she’s practically drowning in it. Odin, are you really that blind or is this one of your self-protective things again?”

“I…there might have been moments when…but like you’ve told me on countless occasions, there’s no reason _anyone_ , let alone a princess, would be interested in me,” Odin said defensively, holding his cup like a shield against her words. “That’s a once in a lifetime fluke and my luck has already been spent.”

The three went silent at Odin’s frank declaration. Selena glowered into her cup, unwilling or unable to dispute what he’d said. Laslow bit his lip painfully before speaking. “It’s not about luck…there’s more to it than that,” he tried to explain.

Odin shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Selena. Go on, say it.” It wasn’t like speaking _her_ name would hurt him any more than the way she smiled in his dreams. “Say it, Selena. I’ll wait here until you do.”

“One day we’re going to go back,” Selena said slowly. “We’re going to go home. There are things you can’t take back and…I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

When Odin didn’t argue, Laslow tried to come to his defense. “It’s not like…she’s watching or judging him. She won’t know and if she did…don’t you think she wants him to be happy?”

“It’s not about whether or not she knows. _He’d_ know,” Selena said, jerking her chin at Odin. “When we get home…can you face her with that knowledge? Could you live with yourself?”

Odin swallowed hard, his usually jovial face drawn and pale. Without a word, he put his teacup down, stood, and walked out of the tent. Selena and Laslow watched his back disappear behind the tent flaps, neither calling him back. Selena pushed her cup away, lips trembling just barely noticeably. Laslow hung his head for a moment, then raised it again. “Why say these things if it’s just going to make you sick?” He asked.

Selena stood, buckling her sword belt back on her waist. “I don’t know,” she admitted in a rare show of defenselessness. “I’m not going to drills this afternoon. Tell Gunter I’m not feeling well.”

She left as well, leaving Laslow alone and miserable.

oOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, blackberry biscuits are just Leo's color.
> 
> @LemonyDave: I promised you a Owynthia kiss but I FAR underestimated how long the scenes would be. Fear ye not, it is coming. Thanks for waiting a little longer!
> 
> @Nino_Nuke: The main canon is really hard to write exactly because it makes no Naga-loving sense. I know I'm fudging the timelines here but dear gods Fire Emblem time is a mess. Thank you for reading!!
> 
> @Dawn: Thank you!! I'm so happy I can write something you like! Please stay with Owain and me as we continue!


	11. Putting the Trap in Trapdoor

**Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Elise found Odin wandering around not long after he’d left the impromptu tea party. His usually pleasant, ruddy face was veiled and empty and he seemed to have no particular destination in mind as he walked. “What’s wrong?” She asked, catching up to him and leaning in to peer at his expression.

He turned a little, acknowledging her, but seemed even more despondent at the sight of her. “Hello, Lady Elise. It’s nothing for you to worry over—merely the usual torture of the Chosen Hero.”

She made a face and he could tell that she didn’t believe him. “Are you sure?” She asked suspiciously.

“As sure as the night drafts stir the aching blood inside my exalted left hand,” he replied.

“That’s pretty sure, huh?”

“The surest.”

After another moment’s concern, she relented. “Okay. Well, listen. I was wondering if…if you wanted to share kitchen duty tonight? It could be fun to cook together! We could impress everyone with some super tasty dishes!”

At one time, Odin might have asked her if she was trying to offload part of her cooking duty onto him, but now he looked at her and wondered if she had a deeper motive. “You want Odin Dark to give his aid in your search for flavors that feed not only the body but the soul as well?” He asked, trying to mask his discomfort.

“Exactly,” Elise agreed. “Not only could we make way better food than Hinoka and Setsuna did last week, but if we make Xander and Ryoma’s favorite foods we might redeem ourselves for that whole food fight thing. We could even throw in a tomato dish for Leo.”

Odin hesitated. The kitchen was small, so it meant spending time in a small space with her.

Alone.

He’d never had problems being alone with her before. They’d even shared his cloak on cold nights when she couldn't sleep. Today, however, Selena’s words were still reverberating in his mind. He looked down at her and, as if on cue, she flashed him her most dazzling, toothy smile. _Ugh_ , he thought, feeling unable to say no. “As you call, so shall Odin Dark respond!” He replied, striking a pose.

“Alright!” Elise cheered. “I’ll meet you there in two hours, okay? Let me go let Camilla know I don’t need any help from her tonight.”

She scampered away, happiness beaming from her face like the moon. A nervous thrill ran from Odin’s chest down into his abdomen, settling in his guts. “It’s only dinner,” he muttered, trying to soothe himself.

oOoOo

**Mess Hall, Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

Odin arrived to the kitchen first and found himself at a loss. He couldn't start without Elise but he didn’t want to lean on the counters and look like he’d been waiting for her like a loyal hound, either. Maybe he could just prep some vegetables to pass the time. As soon as he reached for the knives, however, he realized they’d never agreed on exactly what they were going to make. _Ah_ , he thought, spying the aprons hanging near the trapdoor that led to the root cellar. He grabbed a large one and took his time tying it around his waist.

When he was done, he looked down at himself and frowned. Was it tied too loosely? It looked silly. Maybe he ought to wrap the string around _this_ way so it didn't hang like a bag and…wait, why did he care what the apron looked like? He and the princess were working together to perform a task; that’s all. It didn’t matter what he looked like.

Just as he was retying it for the fourth time, the door to the kitchen slammed open and Elise hurried in. “Sorry! I got caught up in something and forgot what time it was! Were you waiting long?”

“Not long at all,” Odin replied, watching her select a smaller apron. She’d tied her pigtails up in two dango buns that jiggled as she walked. He watched as she threw her own apron on, scolding himself for noticing the way she tied in just tight enough to accentuate her slight curves and make her look like a doll. Was she trying to look cute or was this just a norm that he hadn’t paid attention to before? _Argh!_ He put the heel of his palm to his head, trying to clear his troublesome thoughts.

Elise noticed. “What, did you forget something? You can run grab it if you need to.”

Odin shook his head. “No, it’s nothing. Merely sweeping away mental cobwebs.”

“Good idea,” she said seriously. “I’ve come up with—ah, I mean—the spirits stirred and whispered a most magically inspired meal plan into my ears! In order to carry out the mission of the netherworld, we must be at our…our most dark! Our darkest!”

She was struggling to find the right words and Odin grinned despite himself. She was adorable.

Wait. No. The _words_ were adorable, not her.

This was turning into a disaster. Odin felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back and shifted uncomfortably. Elise stopped smiling and looked at him, worried. “Are you okay?”

“It’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” He asked, pulling at his apron.

Elise shrugged. “It feels okay to me. Do you want some water? We haven’t even lit the cooking fires yet, so it’s going to get even warmer.” _Oh boy_ , Odin thought. _Get a hold of yourself._ “You don’t have to wear your apron if it’s too much for you, you know,” the princess continued. “Sometimes Silas takes his shirt off and only wears training shorts and the apron.”

 _Oh, I bet he does_ , Odin thought irritably before pausing. “How do you know that?” He asked suspiciously.

“Jakob made him help me cook one time. He said I put too much sugar in the soup and was shaming the Nohrian royal family.”

“You and Silas cooked together shirtless…?”

Elise colored a little. “Oh, no, only he was shirtless. I wanted to, but apparently it’s ‘unladylike’ and ‘inappropriate’. Don’t you think that’s unfair? Why can’t girls be comfortable when they cook? We train in our chest bindings sometimes. What’s so different?”

 _I’ll kill him_ , Odin thought, the image of a laughing Silas in only an apron flashing before his eyes. “I suppose it is unfair,” he said, trying to shake the thought away. “I’d never thought about it much before.”

“Exactly!” Elise said. “So you should do what makes you happy.”

The whole conversation had turned a weird corner and Odin was happy when his small companion pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and showed it to him. “This is a complicated menu,” he murmured as he read. “But it’s well within our reach. You focus on this half and I’ll do these dishes, alright?”

“No, I want to do these three. I’m better at cutting vegetables than I am at sauces,” she explained. “Are you okay with that?”

“Your word is law,” Odin agreed. “Ready? Go!”

The two immediately set to work, quibbling only a little over who got to use which pot and knife. Odin delighted Elise by blasting fire into the fire pits using a flashy technique he’d perfected in the baths. After hanging a pan over one of them to warm, she opened the door to the cellar. “I’m going to get some cabbage and daikon. Do you need anything?” She asked.

“Could you bring me a couple of fish?”

“Sure!” She chirped, descending the stairs. “Be careful with the door—it’s touchy!” She called up behind her.

She was gone for a few minutes, then Odin heard a _crash_ and left his peach glaze bubbling to investigate. “Everything alright down there?”

“Um…” Her voice sounded strained in darkness. “I tried to carry too much and dropped everything. Is there a lantern up there?”

There was, but, naturally, it was out of oil. “Hold on,” Odin said, taking his pot of water off the fire. “Let me help.” He wiped his hands on his apron and thumped down the stairs, following the sounds of her annoyed huffs. From what he could see in the low light, she was crawling on the ground, gathering cabbages into her arms. “Here, give me those,” he said, crouching beside her. “Put them in my arms as you grab them.”

She complied, filling his arms with cabbages. He hauled them up the stairs, accidentally knocking the cellar door closed behind him as he went. “Odin!” Elise wailed from below.

“Sorry,” he called, reopening the door and letting in the light from the kitchen. “Did you get the daikon?”

“Mostly,” she replied. “I can’t find two of them, though. It’s too dark.”

He descended into the shadows again and knelt beside her, looking under the shelves. “Here’s one,” he said, stretching his long arm to snag the vegetable where it had rolled under a shelf of fruit.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it and dropping it into a box. “I think the other one might be over here…oh!” She cried, tripping over his feet and tumbling into the earthen wall. The trapdoor immediately slammed down again overhead, shutting them in complete darkness. “Ow…” she whined.

“Did you hurt yourself? You weren’t holding a knife, were you?” Odin asked anxiously.

“No, I left that upstairs,” Elise replied sheepishly. “Geez. Where are you?”

Odin slowly stood up, stooping under the low ceiling. “I’m here. I’ll open the door.”

“I’ll do it,” Elise offered. “I’m closer, anyway. Ow!” She whined again. “There’s a wall there, apparently. Wait, where am I?”

She sounded further away, her voice muffled. “Did you go under the stairs?” Odin asked, trying to feel his way along the shelves. “I think you hit the wall right beside them when you fell.”

“It doesn’t feel like stairs,” she replied, still muffled. “Aw, nasty, I put my hand on a fish. How did I get over this far?”

“Keep talking,” Odin said, nearly tripping himself over the box of daikon.

“That’s easier said than done,” Elise grumbled. “Talk, talk, talk. I’m talking. Where are you now?”

Nearing her voice, Odin reached out and came into contact with something warm and soft. “Found you!” He announced. “Please tell me this is your shoulder.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not,” Elise replied.

“Oh, gods,” Odin squeaked, pulling his hand back. If blood emitted light, his face would illuminate the whole place and solve their problems. Was this how Inigo and his family always felt? “A thousand apologies. Blast this cellar. Why did they build it like this?”

Elise’s voice sounded strained as well. “Um, let me just…um, I’ll just squeeze past and…whoa, don’t put your foot there!” She lost her balance again and flailed wildly.

Odin followed the sound and caught her this time, keeping her from meeting the ground. “Bad idea,” he admonished her, pulling her against him. “You just stay here. Milord will be most displeased if you break something fumbling around down here.”

“Leo can go boil his head,” Elise muttered, clinging to the fabric of Odin’s tunic. The two clumsily attempted to move toward the stairs for a minute before Elise spoke again. “Wait. Odin, aren’t you a high-level mage?”

“Of course I am,” He replied. “What does…oh.” He snapped and a small flame appeared in his palm, throwing light against the boxes of supplies and cellar walls. “I guess this would have been helpful earlier.” He looked down to where Elise was still holding him around the waist. “Er…you can…you can let go now, Lady Elise.”

She didn’t. “Since when did you call me ‘Lady’?” She asked softly, frowning.

The look in her eyes sent the thrill from earlier scurrying down Odin’s spine, curling in his guts again. Despite the musty smell of the cellar, it was dark and they were alone and her lips were _so_ pink…he didn’t need both hands to push her small body back against the wall and…

His heart skittered and he stepped away, covering his face with the hand not currently holding fire. Elise’s face didn’t change as he did, but her hands hovered for a moment in the air before she dropped them to her side. “S-sorry,” he muttered, walking away.

She followed, keeping a distance. “No, it’s my fault. I…is all this smoke from your little flame?”

Odin stopped and sniffed. “Nope,” he said, running up the stairs and throwing open the cellar hatch. More smoke flooded down into the underground space, causing them both to cough. “I think that’s what used to be my peach glaze,” he admitted.

“Oh no,” Elise moaned, hanging her head.

oOoOo

“Well, I hope you two are happy,” Jakob said primly, inspecting the carnage that was the kitchen. “You’ve managed to make a mess that puts even Felicia to shame.”

Footsteps hurried up behind him and both Felicia and Flora appeared in the doorway. “Wow!” Felicia gasped. “We’ve definitely got trouble!”

Flora set to work using her ice magic to douse the remaining embers. “How did this happen?” She asked.

“The cellar door closed while we were inside and we couldn’t find the stairs,” Elise mumbled, her head down again. “The peaches were on fire and I thought water would put it out but Odin cooks his glaze with oil so it sort of…splattered and then I thought maybe _Wind_ would fix it but it…um, didn’t.”

Jakob glared at her and Odin in turn. “I see. So you two were engaging in sexcapades, forgot that the rest of the army needed dinner tonight, set a pot aflame, and decided to test the lower limits of human intelligence. Delightful.”

“No, no!” Odin protested, echoed by Elise. “We weren’t…it was all entirely…there was no debauchery happening!” Jakob spreading a rumor that he and Elise were canoodling in the cellar was the last thing he needed. Severa and his liege Leo would separate his head from his shoulders for sure.

Jakob merely raised an eyebrow. Elise looked up at him, then over at Odin’s ashen face, and frowned. “Jakob, you listen to me,” she said, pulling herself up as tall as she could. “I forbid you from telling anyone about what happened here.”

“I answer only to Lady Corrin,” Jakob sneered, his lip curling. “Your words mean less to me than the fart of a Faceless.”

Elise scowled. “If you tell anyone, I’ll…I’ll tell my big sister Corrin that you’re bullying me.”

That stopped Jakob short. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I will!” Elise replied defiantly. “I’ll tell her you’re bullying me and I’ll…I’ll cry! Right in front of her!”

Jakob glared at her, contempt and fear in his eyes. The two had a battle of wills for a moment, then the butler backed down. “Very well,” he snarled. “You’ve bested me on this one. I want both of you in here after I finish supper to clean the mess you’ve made. Understood?”

“Understood!” Odin agreed heartily.

As she followed her sister and Jakob out, Felicia stopped to wring Odin and Elise’s hands. “Did you two do this just to get Jakob to stop punishing me for accidentally throwing Corrin’s pajamas in the fire?”

Odin glanced down at Elise. “Sure,” he replied amiably.

“Thank you, _thank you_! I owe you two big!” The coral-haired maid nearly sobbed with happiness. “Let me know if you ever need a favor!”

After Felicia left, Elise turned to her partner in crime. “Well that explains why Corrin’s been sleeping nude. Did you like how I handled Jakob?”

“It was truly fearsome to behold,” Odin complimented. “I thought all hope was lost.”

“Never!” Elise said, grinning.

oOoOo

Cleaning took all evening and it was long past midnight when they finished. Covered in soot and soaked with water, Elise sat down on the newly scrubbed floor and groaned. “Ugh. I never want to cook again.”

Odin leaned against a counter opposite her, stretching his legs out. “And to think we have the full-company morning run tomorrow at sunrise.”

“Don’t remind me,” Elise groaned.

“Well, I’m off to chase down a few elusive hours of dark rest,” Odin announced, standing up and yawning. “I’m sorry our mystical supper didn’t go as planned.”

Elise stood up also, dusting off her skirt as she went. “Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled, looking at the floor.

Odin moved to walk past her towards the door, but the atmosphere she was emitting made him pause. She was still staring at the floor, but it was clear she wanted something. Did…did she expect him to hug her goodnight? That would be strange, wouldn’t it? She’d hugged him before, but she’d always started things like that. Maybe he was imagining things.

“Actually,” she began, and his heart skittered again. So he hadn’t been imagining it. “I…I wanted us to cook together because I wanted to spend with you,” she said, still looking down.

He laughed, bemused. “We’re together a lot,” he pointed out. “Don’t you get tired of me?”

“No!” She replied sourly, looking up. “I don’t! And it’s different when we’re training. Tonight I thought…I thought if we made a great supper together I could…I could say something like ‘don’t we make a great team?’ and…” Her voice trailed off.

Odin’s mind was emptying and he wasn’t sure what to say. When he didn’t say anything, Elise seemed to gather courage. “Say, Odin, what do you think of me?” She asked, her face stubbornly set.

“In general?” Odin suggested hopefully, though he knew exactly what she meant.

“As a woman,” she clarified, pink seeping into her cheeks.

Odin stared, his heart hammering against his ribs. He remembered an earlier day when she’d asked something similar and it had been so easy for him to tell her the truth. ‘Cute’ he’d said, and he’d meant it. She _was_ cute. She was small and spunky and she made him want to tuck her inside his cloak and keep the world from being able to reach her.

She understood him. She didn’t judge the way he communicated or the ideas he had or the way he lived his life. She accepted every curveball he threw her way without flinching. She’d fought her own brother over him. She made him feel wanted, valuable…something he hadn’t felt since…

How many years had it been since Cynthia had slept at his side? How long since he’d seen her face?

How long did they have to be separated before he would be forgiven for a wavering heart?

Elise shifted her weight uneasily and Odin looked her in the eyes. Selena had been right. The look in the princess’ eyes was warm and familiar and sent chills of terror through his chest. He wanted to answer her honestly, but…

Could he live with himself?

“I don’t know,” he murmured, more to himself than as an answer to her.

She blinked, disappointed but not hopeless. “I want you to think about it,” she directed. “You may not know how you feel about me, but I know how I feel about you.”

Odin wasn’t sure if his heart could take the words that came next, but she spoke them anyway.

“I really, really like you, Odin. Don’t worry about my brother—I’ve already talked to him. I want you to see me as a woman and not just your magic student or a Nohrian royal.” Her feelings now laid bare, she seemed to fill the room despite her diminutive size.

Though his heart was screaming the answer, he couldn’t bring himself to give them voice and instead took her hands. “I’ll think about what you’ve said,” he promised, squeezing her fingers. “Harder than I’ve ever thought about anything before.”

“You better,” she said, still trying to sound authoritative even though her voice was shaking. “Goodnight, then.” She gently pulled her hands from Odin’s and left the kitchen.

Odin sat down heavily. He might as well stay here for a while—it wasn’t as if he was going to get any sleep tonight.

oOoOo

**Dusty road, Ylisse**

Lucina had been wrong. When Owain awoke from the hellish trip through Naga’s portal, he found himself lying, alone, in the road outside a small village. His head ached fiercely, but his sword was still in its sheath and he seemed otherwise unharmed. The past looked like the future, minus the mass destruction and corpses. Owain took a moment to sit and clear his head before attempting to move. Time travel was uncomfortable.

As soon as his mind cleared, he took time to truly look around. He wasn’t on Mount Prism, nor was he anywhere he recognized. His companions were nowhere to be seen. He heaved himself to his feet, dusting off his behind, and called out, “Cynthia? Inigo?”

No one answered.

He wandered around a bit, continuing to call out the names of his friends. When he’d satisfied himself that he was truly alone, he sighed heavily. _Now what?_ He had nothing save a few gold coins, a cloak, and some dried rations in his knapsack. The gold would only buy him a few nights at an inn, so he would either need to find work or become a nomad.

The darkening sky indicated a quickly approaching night. Looking down the road, he could make out smoke spiraling from chimneys in the village ahead. Hefting his bag on his shoulder, he turned for civilization and started walking.

oOoOo

Having never had a job in his life, Owain struggled initially but soon found work with a blacksmith. He was young and strong and when one craftsman ran out work for him to do, another picked him up quickly. He was paid in room and board, so while he didn’t accumulate much wealth, he never had to sleep on the road either. The work kept him in shape, but it did nothing for his loneliness and he turned to books as a distraction from the churning of his mind. He bought any fiction books he could find from traveling salespeople and, when he’d read them three or four times, gave them to the villagers as gifts when he moved on.

The heroes in the books inspired him and he thought of them as role models. This new world (was it really the past?) scared him. He’d heard nothing from his companions or the Shepherds and he was beginning to wonder if he’d been spit out somewhere or sometime completely different. When his heart began to pound uncontrollably with anxiety, he closed his eyes and thought of one of the heroes in his favorite novels. They would face this fear head on with a smirk and a quick turn of phrase, wouldn’t they? They would dig inside themselves until they hit some unknown vein of magic and power.

If they could do it, so could he. If he delved deeply enough, surely he would find some hidden source of courage that would stop his chest from hurting and his mouth from going dry every time he looked towards the empty road. After all, he was Owain, the branded bearer of the Exalt’s blessed blood. He was born of two heroes and on a mission to save a doomed world; he was practically a hero in a book already!

Naturally, if he was going to feel like a hero, he had to look like one. He had to hide his Brand with fingerless gloves so no one would recognize him as a member of the royal family, but that didn’t mean the rest of him couldn’t look dashing. He traded work hauling sheep wool for an entire summer for a seamstress to sew him a fitted myrmidon outfit the same yellow as his mother’s favorite dress. The color reminded him of hiding under her bustle when he was young—the sun filtering through the fabric was always stained that beautiful yellow, the color of soft sunflower petals and his mother’s laughter.

Next, he had to act like a hero. Wouldn’t his parents be proud of the warrior they’d raised when they met him again in this world? He’d arrive out of the dust of battle, dark and mysterious, clutching the handle of a bloody sword and whispering words of power. They’d be blown away.

Owain’s 18th birthday came and went, but he was still alone. The farmer in whose field he practiced swordsmanship would sometimes come out and watch him train from the porch of his house. Once or twice he’d called his entire family out to see what the weird sword boy was doing. Embarrassed but not offended, Owain worked even harder. _Let them laugh_ , he thought, striking the thick training post he’d dug into the ground. _They know nothing of the aching blood that flows through my fated veins._ “Arrgh!” He yelled, convulsing. “Sword hand…taking over…behold the RADIANT DAAAAAAWN!”

The farmer just chewed on his alfalfa stalk and shook his head. Kids these days.

oOoOo

**Sage’s Hamlet, Ylisse**

After staying in one place for over three seasons, one of the unaccountable Annas told Owain that there was a rare, valuable book being sold in a nearby town and, if he hurried, he could read it before it was sold to be part of a nobleman’s collection. Accordingly, he left his job as a shepherd (ironic, he thought) and traveled to every town within walking distance, but the book was nowhere to be found.

His gold was almost spent by the time he reached a quiet village filled with elderly sages looking for an untroubled retirement. If it weren’t here, he’d be forced to return to his original village and try to convince the rancher to take him back on as a farmhand. He was in the midst of a strange and spirited conversation with a wizened sorcerer when a call of panic went up out in the village square.

They stuck their heads out the doorframe to see one of the oldest sages being run through with a sword by a rough character strapped with weapons all over his body. A young woman ran out of a nearby shop to catch the sage’s body when it was dropped, and the assailant immediately reached out to grab her by her short hair.

“Brigands!” the sorcerer hissed, pulling Owain back into her house. “They won’t leave until they’ve gone door-to-door and looted all we have. I have a back door. Use it to escape, young man! I’ve enjoyed your company and I shan’t see your blood shed.”

Owain shook his head vehemently. “What poor repayment for your hospitality that would be! Your fight is mine.”

The sorcerer cackled, patting him on the back. “Is that so? I like you even more. Take this, then.” She searched her bookshelves until she found an elixir, which she pushed into his hands. “Go. If they come to my house, they won’t find a compliant victim waiting for them, I assure you.”

“Thank you,” Owain said, hugging the old woman. It was his first human contact in over a year and it warmed his heart. “Let me handle this.”

The first ruffian had disappeared when he stepped outside, but others had gathered to laugh at the young woman, who they’d pushed to the ground and spat on. Owain drew his sword, bile rising in his throat. He crossed behind a line of fruit carts, keeping low to the ground as he approached the small throng. When he was close enough to see the cuts on the woman’s hands from defending her grandfather’s body from the brigands’ knives, he sprang up and thrust his blade into the back of the closest ruffian.

The man screamed and collapsed, unable to breathe, and his companions abandoned their fun immediately. Owain’s blood pumped through his veins like the galloping of horses and the slaughter came naturally despite his recent seasons of quiet life. Though he hadn’t sharpened his sword in many moons, it bit through flesh just the way he’d remembered. “Get behind me,” he instructed the young woman, who complied without hesitation. “WHO ELSE DARES TO ENGAGE WITH OWAIN, SCION OF LEGEND?”

A brigand burst out of a doorway to his right and he pivoted, meeting his opponent’s steel with his own. “Who the devil are you?” The man grunted, pushing his weight into his blade.

“Weren’t you listening?” Owain replied, breaking the clash and stepping back. “I am one chosen by forces beyond mortal comprehension! See how my sword hand twitches! It hungers…for justice! Leave now if you value life and limb, for I cannot stay the hungry hand!”

The brigand stared at him as if he’d announced he was Grima’s unholy left tit and Owain took the opportunity to skewer him between the ribs. Another ruffian took his place, but a familiar horn sounded somewhere in the distance and the man gritted his teeth. “First you and now the damn Shepherds…”

Owain froze, sword raised. “Shepherds, you said? The Exalt’s special forces?”

“Damn the Exalt and damn her army,” the brigand swore, spitting at Owain’s feet. “I ain’t got time for you. Do me a favor and die quicky.”

Owain had no intentions of doing any such thing, but his mind was not on the kill now. He blinked hard, trying to clear his mind, and was nearly taken by surprise when his opponent sprang at him, pulling an unseen blade from his cloak. The knife flashed, slashing a tear in Owain’s tunic sleeve and causing blood to ooze from a shallow wound on his arm. “Curse you!” he muttered.

The young woman gasped in horror behind his back and his mind sharpened, remembering that he was still in protection mode. Without another word, he flexed his hands and struck out at the ruffian, who stumbled backwards. The tip of a blade suddenly emerged from the foe’s chest and he grunted, falling to his knees and revealing a blunette man standing behind him, sword in hand. Owain raised his own weapon, but lowered it when he caught sight of the newcomer’s face. The man looked like Inigo, but different. Was there a man like this in the Shepherds?

“Are you alright?” The man asked, eyes sweeping over Owain’s body. “I saw you from across the way, defending that woman, and I thought you could use the help.”

Owain nodded, still bewildered. “I appreciate you.” He turned to the woman and sheathed his sword. “Do you have anywhere to go? You’ll be safe now.”

“I’ll go back to my grandmother’s,” the woman said, relief in her voice. “Thank you, brave sir.”

“Don’t thank me,” Owain said airily, actually very pleased with the praise. “I’m only doing my duty.” Once the woman had left his side, he turned back to see that the Inigo lookalike was still staring at him.

“I have a question,” the man said, his tone leaving no room for Owain to decline. “Your stance…you’ve crafted your own style around it, but it’s clearly from the royal house of Ylisse.”

Owain gulped. How did he know? “Your eye is sharp!” He said loudly, striking a pose. “I have no information to give you, however, until you reveal your identity! Might you be one of the villain’s spies, come to hunt me?”

The man made a face. “Um. I’m Chrom…of Ylisse? I have no quarrel with you, but if we must fight…”

“UNCLE CHROM?” Owain burst out, forgetting all caution in his shock. This young, barefaced man looked nothing like the imposing, bearded, Exalt Chrom of his memories.

“…Uncle?” Chrom repeated, pulling away.

Simultaneous relief and anxiety flooded Owain’s heart and he scrabbled for words. He’d practiced greeting his family many, many times during his seclusion. “L-let me start over! Oh fellow scion of the great hero! I greet you as kin and kind! From across the misty shores of, er, time, I, uh…” One look at his uncle’s face showed that his heroic greeting was not being received well. “I strive, bearing forth tidings of…um. I’m Lissa’s kid from the future,” he finished lamely, forgetting that the Shepherds may not have heard of the time travelers yet.

Chrom’s face brightened the smallest bit, but bemusement still tightened his features. “That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, but well met! Did you come with Lucina?”

Lucina! So she had found them and they already knew! Why hadn’t they come for him? “Lucina is here? How about Cynthia?”

“Cynthia…” Chrom repeated. “I can’t say I’ve heard that name.” Owain began to ask after his mother, but Chrom interrupted him. “Help us dispatch the rest of these brigands and you can see our entire company. Until then, try to talk less and fight more.”

Owain frowned. “My mettle in combat is the stuff of legends! Bards sing tales of my…Uncle Chrom! Come back!”

oOoOo

**Sage’s Hamlet, Ylisse**

The rest of the brigands were easily overcome. Owain stayed close to his uncle as they fought, marveling just how different he looked. Near the end, Olivia joined them and Owain was disturbed all over again at how she had changed. How old were these Shepherds, anyway? Chrom didn’t look older than thirty. What did that make his mother?

When the fighting was over and Chrom led him to where the Shepherds were regrouping, Owain’s heart squeezed painfully. He wanted so badly to see his mother and yet…he wasn’t sure if he was ready. Severa bounded out of the throng first, a fiercely pleased look on her face. She wasn’t who he’d wanted to see first, but he opened his arms and pulled her into a hug when she reached him. “You smell like sheep,” she complained, her voice muffled in his shoulder.

“I found work as the traditional kind of shepherd,” he explained, rolling his eyes. “Is that any way to say hello after over a year?”

She clutched him more tightly. “Ugh. Hello, then. I’m glad to see you, I guess.”

When she released him, he pushed her away and was embarrassingly thrilled to see that her face hadn’t changed from his memories. “I’m glad to see you, too. Are Cynthia and Inigo here?”

She shook her head, brown ponytails flopping. “We have a lead on Cynthia’s whereabouts and have been tracking her, but not a word from Inigo. I take it you’ve heard nothing from him as well?”

“You’re correct.” Owain looked at her face again and saw the worry in her eyes. “I’m sure he’s stuck in some backwater like I was. He’s probably tending pigs.”

His words sparked a silly smile on Severa’s face that she couldn’t erase in time to save her dignity. “I hope so,” she said, turning her face. “There’s someone who wants to see you, by the way.”

She walked away and another, smaller figure stepped forward. Owain knew her as soon he saw her sunflower colored skirts, and he was instantly lost for words. “So you’re Owain, huh?” She said, peering intently into his face.

“M-Mother…” Owain mumbled, drinking in the sight of her. She was still short, but her body was leaner and slighter than he remembered. Her face was unwrinkled and smooth, like the maiden she was. The skin on the back of her hands was plump, hiding the veins and tendons he was used to seeing.

Whatever she was looking for, she didn’t find it in his face and she continued to inspect the rest of him. He wanted to reach out and hug her, to be pulled into the arms he knew so well and fall into her comfort, but her arms were tucked behind her back. An uneasy silence fell between them, but she broke it suddenly. “Holy crow! Your arm!”

“Eh?” Owain looked down at his left arm. The soft gauntlet he usually wore had been ripped in half. “Hah! It’s just a torn sleeve, Mother. Don’t worry, I’m f--”

“No, not that,” she interrupted, taking his hand. “I mean holy crow—look at that thing on your arm!”

…Ah. He realized what she was looking at and his heart fell. “Right. Sorry, I guess I should have showed you. It’s my Brand. No more need to worry, right?”

She grimaced. “Th-then you know? That I don’t…”

“That your Brand never surfaced? Yes, you told me as much. You said it always weighed on you…you should have seen how happy you were the day mine appeared!” He smiled, remembering the way she’d squashed him to her chest, laughing and crying into his hair. He’d been showered with extra affection for weeks in her relief at ascertaining her place in the royal family.

She made no move to hug him or shower him with affection today, however, though her eyes filled with tears the same way they had when he was a boy. Movement caught his eye and he looked to see his father approaching. Henry, like Lissa, was younger and slighter, but his twisted smile warmed Owain’s aching heart. “Father!” He called, delighted. “I’ve come _owl_ the way from the future to join your _caw_ se!”

Henry’s face exploded with joy. “Son!” He cheered.

“Oh, gods,” Lissa groaned. “Now there’re two of you.”

Cloak billowing out behind him, Henry immediately pulled Owain into his arms. “I knew you even before you spoke. You and your mother are two birds of a feather!” The affection in his father’s hug struck straight at Owain’s heart and he bit his lip. This is what he had missed.

“You do look a lot like me,” Lissa said, looking in his face again without searching for a Brand. “But I think your personality is all Henry.”

“As you say,” Owain agreed, holding onto his father as tightly as he could. “I am a _chirp_ off the old block.”

Henry patted his back. “ _Toucan_ play at that game! You’re _quacking_ me up!”

Lissa groaned again, then seemed to realize her mistake. She elbowed her husband. “Let me have a hug too! Don’t hog him!”

Released from his father’s arms, Owain was pulled into his mother’s embrace. She smelled like soap and armor polish, but under the surface was the scent he remembered—that uniquely Mother smell he knew and loved. The smell relaxed him and he laid the side of his face on the top of her head, squishing her. “Owain…” she complained, pushing against him. “You’re gonna squeeze me in half…”

“My apologies!” Owain said, releasing her instantly. He frowned. His mother would never have complained about how hard he hugged her. “I just…I missed you, is all.”

She tilted her head, clearly not sure what to say. Owain knew she couldn't tell him that she’d missed _him_ too; she’d only just met him, after all. How can you miss someone you’ve never met? Even so, he wanted her to say something—anything—to make him feel wanted, loved.

“I’m glad to meet you,” she said, hugging him again gently. “Lucina told us a lot about you.”

Her hug was warm and kind and familiar, but something was missing. It wasn’t until she pulled away again that he realized what it was.

Love.

oOoOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Thank you for reading another chapter!  
> I really wanted to get into the psychology of why Owaidin is the way he is but it never comes out as well on paper as it is in my head, you know? 
> 
> @DestructionDragon360: Like, actually, Elise's relationship makes the most sense out of all of them. Leo is a siscon and as for banging Peri...just...why...?
> 
> @LemonyDave: I love you. Never go away. 
> 
> @LilacMist: Xander should know better by now. What do you bet he never talks to Elise about her love life ever again? 
> 
> @Guest: I agree--Lucina and Gerome are pretty cute together. Usually I'm a LuciSev shipper but that kind of doesn't work in the universe I've written in this fic. Thanks for reading and commenting!


	12. As it Turns Out, The Past and the Future Both Suck

When night fell, Owain looked around for Inigo to ask him to tent together, then remembered he hadn’t been found yet and immediately felt at a loss. Who was he supposed to tent with? Yarne didn’t use a tent, Laurent was also missing, and Brady and Gerome were already sharing one. The idea of sharing with his young parents was even more galling now that they were close in age, and one person having a tent to themselves was wasteful and therefore not an option.

“You’re tenting with me, loser,” Severa grumped, coming up beside him and taking his arm. “Don’t bother arguing. I’ve been squashed in a too-small tent with Noire and Morgan for months and I’m sick of it.”

Owain pulled his arm out of her grasp. “What? We can’t do that. You’re a girl.”

“Yeah, well that rule is stupid,” Severa retorted. “I’ve already talked to Chrom and he said we’re adults and can do whatever we want.”

“But—”

Severa’s temper flared. “Do _you_ want to sleep with the Sorcery Sisters while Noire mutters curses and Morgan peppers you with unending questions about her favorite color of underwear?”

“Um. No,” Owain replied truthfully. “That sounds terrible.”

“It’s been hell. Now share a tent with me.”

Owain relented in the end, ignoring with difficulty the knowing looks Lissa, Cordelia, and a few of the other Shepherds threw them. “They think we’re together!” He moaned as they put out their pallets. “They probably think we’re in here doing…lewd things!”

Severa glared at him. “Well we know we’re not, so what does it matter? If anyone says anything I’ll knock their lights out.”

Still uncomfortable, Owain stripped off his shirt and crawled under his sheet. He closed his eyes as Severa changed into her night shift, then opened them once she was snuggled in her own little bed. “So,” he said, staring at the ceiling of the tent. “Morgan.”

A sigh came from beside him and he turned to see Severa frowning, her long hair undone and strewn over her pillow. “Did you talk to her?” She asked.

He nodded slowly. “She didn’t know my name.”

“She didn’t know mine either when we found her,” Severa said quietly. “She didn’t even recognize Noire. The only person she can remember is Robin.”

Robin. Seeing him again had been horrible. He’d appeared suddenly behind a rack of weapons, wanting to meet Lissa’s son, and it took everything Owain had to stand still and not run, screaming. Those dark Plegian eyes were so clear and kind…but they were still the same eyes he remembered glowing red that horrible night. His skin was the same skin that had become drenched in Sully and Donnel’s blood. His pale hands, stuck out to greet Owain, were the hands that twisted Tharja’s neck, popping her spine and severing her spinal cord.

Death surrounded him like a sickening miasma and Owain was unable to make eye contact with the grandmaster. Every time he tried, he found himself back on that battlefield, surrounded by gore-splashed trees and the trampled, disfigured corpses of his parents. Though he reminded himself again and again that it wasn’t Robin’s fault, that it was the work of some Grimleal magic, he wanted nothing more than to hide and never see the Plegian man again.

“Morgan doesn’t seem to remember anything about what happened,” Owain mused aloud. “Must be nice.”

“I guess,” Severa replied. “I think it’s disgusting. She acts like we’re here on some sort of vacation. Makes me sick.”

“Wouldn’t you forget if you could?” Owain asked.

“No,” Severa snapped.

Owain chose not to pursue the subject any further and closed his eyes. Despite the quiet night and comfortable temperature, however, sleep would not claim him. He tried not to wiggle and wake Severa, but the sporadic rustling next to him suggested that she was also finding sleep troublesome. “You awake?” He asked softly. She grunted in response. “Do you think this is really the past?”

Severa rolled over to face him. “What do you mean? Of course it’s the past.”

“Doesn’t everything seem…” He searched for the words that would explain the deep unease he felt. “Wrong?”

Severa’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes narrowed. “Go on,” she prompted.

“I just mean…it looks like the world we knew…but it also kind of doesn’t, right? I don’t know how to describe it.” He sighed, frustrated. “It’s like the subtleties have shifted, or—”

“Or you keep noticing mundane things out of the corner of your eyes that shouldn’t catch your attention at all, like trees. They’re so common that usually you don’t give them a thought, but now something has changed just enough to confuse your brain for a split second,” Severa said in a low voice. “But when you look, it’s the same old stupid tree it’s ever been and you can’t remember why you’re looking at it in the first place.”

Eyes wide, Owain stared at her. “…so you’ve noticed too.”

She stared back, lips tight. “Yeah. I was…I was relieved when I saw Lucina and Gerome and even useless Yarne. Looking at them felt right. It’s the same with you.”

“And our parents…”

Severa snorted. “Leave it to Cordelia to fall into the mother role perfectly. As soon as she met me it was like she had raised me herself.”

Furrowing his brow, Owain frowned. “Since when do you call your mother ‘Cordelia’?”

“That woman out there is _not_ my mother,” Severa answered sharply. When Owain continued to look at her, nonplussed, she explained. “She may look like her and piss me off the same way, but my mother is dead. This Cordelia is nothing but an echo.”

“That’s harsh,” Owain said reproachfully. “She’s still your mother and she has a right to love you.”

Severa growled, a low sound in her throat. “I _know_ my own mother. That woman isn’t her and you know it. Tell me you felt the same way about Lissa when you met her—I dare you.”

Owain dropped his eyes. Severa’s words hit too close to home. Something was different, yes, but even so… “Mother is mother,” he stated flatly. “No matter what she looks like.”

“Whatever,” Severa muttered, but her face was miserable.

“If they aren’t the same, what’s the point of coming here?” Owain asked, fear creeping into his voice.

“What?”

“We came here to save the future, right? To stop our parents from being slaughtered? If these people outside aren’t our parents, who are we fighting for? Wouldn’t that mean our parents are now and always will be just piles of bones in a Plegian forest?”

Dismay dawned in Severa’s eyes and her lips parted, freed from their usual scowl. “That’s…” Her face twisted and she bit her lip hard. “I hadn’t…” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ugh…”

Owain floundered. Had he…had he made her cry? Severa? Had he gone too far? What was he supposed to do now? “Severa…” he quavered.

“Shut up! Just shut up…” She hissed, still squeezing her eyes shut. Despite her best efforts, tears gathered under her dark lashes and dripped down her face, running over her nose as she lay on her pillow. “Ugh…!”

Horrified, Owain gritted his teeth. _You just had to go and say it, didn’t you?_ He berated himself silently. Severa’s bedding shook as she suppressed sobs and Owain’s heart hurt. He felt tears rise in his own eyes and so reached out, pulling Severa into his arms. She made irritable noises, but didn’t resist his comfort. Once she was tucked under his covers, she sobbed openly. “If she’s my mother, why does it feel so wrong?”

Why indeed? “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t know the answers either.”

Severa sniffed, keeping her forehead pressed against his chest. “Gods,” she groaned thickly, tears still streaming. “This can’t get any worse. Trapped gods-know-where and gods-know-when having an emotional crisis and now _you’re_ touching me.”

Irritated, Owain squinted at her. “I’m trying to help, you know. Get off if you’re going to be an ass about it.”

“I hate pretty much everything about you, Owain,” Severa began, her sniffling subsiding. Owain, incensed, immediately tried to push her away, but she fought him and stayed curled beside him. “I hate you but I really am glad you’re here,” she admitted quietly.

Twice in one night, Severa had surprised him. What would tomorrow hold? He rolled his eyes and patted her head. “I hate you too. Go back to your own bed if you’ve stopped crying.”

“What’s your problem?” She griped. “If you get a boner over this I’ll tell Cynthia.”

“Who would get a boner over you?” Owain snapped. “Go back to your own bed!”

Severa allowed herself to be pushed and kicked back onto her own pallet. “I’m adorable,” she informed him once he’d stopped kicking her. “Anyone would be thrilled to have me in their tent.”

“Anyone but Inigo, right?”

Severa’s eyes widened and outrage ignited in her face. “You…! Inigo is lucky to have the opportunity to even be near me! Stop looking at me like that! _I do not like Inigo_!” Her voice rose in volume and pitch, and Owain put his hand over her mouth to stifle her rage. She slapped it away. “If you tell anyone you saw me cry I’ll kill you! Don't touch me or talk to me ever again!” She commanded before turning away from him in a huff.

Owain smirked, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders. Angry was how he liked Severa best.

oOoOo

**Great Gate Village, North of Valm Harbor**

If Severa was angry with him after his comment that night, it was nothing compared to her ire when the Shepherds found Inigo making a daisy chain for a village maiden as a battle raged around him. Lucina pointed him out to her parents, but before they could approach him, Severa marched over and, with a swing of her sword, cut his chain in half. “WHAT IN DRAGONFIRE ARE YOU DOING, YOU USELESS LECHER?” She bellowed, daisy detritus fluttering around her like autumn leaves.

“S-Severa!” Inigo gasped, blanching at the sight of her face and blade.

“Who is this?” The maiden asked, moving to hide behind Inigo, who cringed.

Severa narrowed her eyes and Inigo chuckled nervously. “Ah, this is, er, a companion of mine. Severa, dearest, do you mind? You’re scaring Celeste here…”

“To hell with Celeste,” Severa sneered. “I’ve brought your parents, you ass. Do you want to see them or are you trying to lay every milkmaid in the village first?”

Celeste gasped and Inigo colored in the face immediately. “I-I am most certainly not trying to…why do you do this to me?”

“You do it to yourself! All this time and this is what you were doing? Flirting with…what are you, anyway? What are you _wearing_? Get out of here. Go on, scram!” Severa waved her arms at the girl, shooing her as if she were an errant chicken. “Are you paying for it now, Inigo? Is that how low you’ve sunk?”

Inigo’s face was so red it looked like it might explode at any moment. “She’s a dancer! My mother is a dancer too, you know!”

Olivia and Chrom watched, bemused, as the two mercenaries argued and the village girl slunk away, the soft material of her costume fluttering. Severa finally came stomping back, Inigo at her heels. “Here’s your son,” she said sourly. “If you ask me, we ought to leave him here.”

Inigo watched her flounce away and turned to his family, hands in a surrendering gesture. Chrom and Olivia looked him over, intrigued, and the color that had receded from the prince’s face came rushing back. “H-Hullo Father, Mother,” he said sheepishly. “Would you mind not staring like that…?”

“My apologies,” Chrom said, drawing back. “I see the Brand in your eye is the same as Lucina’s. You’re definitely of royal blood.”

Inigo stood a little taller. “Of course I am,” he replied.         

“Was that maiden your girlfriend?” Olivia asked, her voice meek as usual. “Or are you with Severa? I can’t tell…you seem very popular with women.” Her cheeks flamed as she spoke.

“No to both!” Inigo said, unable to look his mother in the eye. “I’ve been talking to dancers in all the villages trying to get information as to your whereabouts. Lucina’s always been the more popular one, actually…”

Lucina immediately flushed as well. “I have not!” She protested. “The marriage offers were purely political!”

Olivia tilted her head, surprised. “Oh my,” she whispered. “I didn’t know my children would turn out so bold…!”

“Mother!” Lucina and Inigo cried in unison.

Chrom looked back and forth between his crimson-faced wife and children, who were all avoiding each other’s eyes and fidgeting. _Olivia and I apparently have very strong genetics. The family resemblance is uncanny,_ he thought. _Communication is going to be impossible_.

oOoOo

**Shepherds’ Camp, Past**

Inigo was shocked when he heard that Cynthia hadn’t yet been found. “How can that be?” He asked, his face scrunched in confusion. “One of my contacts told me that she’d heard of a pegasus rider named Cynthia that had recently joined a group led by Chrom of Ylisse.”

Equally puzzled, Owain shook his head. “We’ve heard that she was going around by herself doing odd tasks for people for money, but we’ve had no contact with her and we haven’t been able to find her.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you try to find her?”

“I intended to, honestly,” Inigo said, leaning in and lowering his voice in the hopes their third companion wouldn’t hear. “I, er, got the smallest bit distracted.”

Irritated, Owain didn’t try to save his buddy when Severa launched into a savage tirade about choosing floozies over friends. He privately agreed; Inigo should have put his companions first. Still, he himself didn’t exactly go out of his way to hunt for Cynthia, did he?

_I was living day to day, trying to stay fed,_ he reminded himself. That was an excuse, though, wasn’t it? “We should try harder to find her,” he said, interrupting his friends’ squabbling. “She’s out there alone and I don’t like it.”

Severa nodded her agreement and Owain cast her an odd look, surprised she wasn’t taking the opportunity to ridicule him about his concern for Cynthia. She had loosened up and treated everyone better since Inigo had been found. “We’ll go at dawn tomorrow to the next village on our route and see what they have to say about this other Chrom of Ylisse she’s supposedly with.”

Hesitating lest he push her good humor too far, Owain ventured a request. “Can we take Morgan with us?”

Severa’s face showed her annoyance, but Inigo cut in ahead of her. “Of course we can. How is she, anyway? I haven’t seen her lovely, sassy little face around camp yet.”

“She’s…” Owain tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sheathed sword, searching for words. “She had a…well…”

“What? Is she alright?” Inigo asked, worried.

“We’re not actually sure what happened,” Owain answered. “She claims to have lost some of her memories. You’ll see what I mean tomorrow.”

Inigo’s brow furrowed. “Lost her memories? Was it the portal?” Owain shrugged in response and the prince looked down at himself. “Do I still have all of my memories?”

“You better,” Severa growled. “I’m not dealing with you if you start drilling me on your favorite tea cup patterns.”

“Favorite tea cup patterns?” Inigo repeated. “What _are_ my favorite tea cup patterns? Do I have favorites? Gods, have I lost my memory?”

Severa thonked him on the head with the side of her hand. “Get over yourself. Let’s go see what Libra cooked for supper before Stahl eats it all.”

After dinner, Inigo asked where Owain’s tent was and the myrmidon explained that he’d been sharing with Severa. Inigo didn’t comment on the arrangement, but asked where Severa would be sleeping now that he was back and could tent with Owain. Severa overheard and staunchly replied that she wasn’t moving tents and that Inigo could go share with Brady and Gerome if he was that offended to be near her. Inigo protested the indecency of co-ed tents, leading Severa to declare she’d rather sleep in a saddle on Grima’s back than do anything indecent with him, so he’d better shut up and get in the tent before she made him sleep on the grass with Yarne.

Owain therefore found himself smashed between Inigo and Severa that night, their bodies pressed against and cramping him in the tent that was clearly only meant for two. As was his habit, Inigo turned in the night and wrapped his arms around the closest warm object, which happened to be an uncomfortable Owain.

_Which is more awkward,_ he wondered, feeling Inigo’s breath on his neck. _Facing Inigo or being the little spoon?_ Inigo cuddled closer and Owain rolled his eyes. _Little spoon it is._ He rolled over, hoping the movement would wake his cousin, but it didn’t. When he opened his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with a sleeping Severa, a lock of whose hair had gotten caught in her mouth.

Owain groaned. _Why does this happen to me? Why can’t they just hook up and get it over with?_ Maybe _he_ ought to go sleep with Yarne.

oOoOo

“So you’re Inigo?” Morgan asked, smiling blithely at the horrified Ylissean prince. “I’d say ‘nice to meet you’ but the way you’re looking at me tells me we’ve met before.”

Inigo gawked at her, disturbed. “We grew up together,” he said awkwardly but kindly. “Our fathers are best friends, so I guess you could say we’ve met a few times.”

Morgan’s smile stayed stuck to her face, but her eyes searched him frantically for some spark of recognition, anything to jog her memory. “Well. Hello again, then,” she said finally, her smile unfaltering. “You’ll have to forgive me.” She continued to stare at him until he turned his face, cheeks ablaze. “Why are you blushing? Aren’t you an accomplished flirt? That’s what Chrom told my Father. Aren’t you going to flirt with me?”

Inigo spluttered at the idea and Severa hooted with laughter. “She just re-met you and she already has you pegged,” she said. “Go on then, loverboy. Show off your skills.”

Morgan waited expectantly and Inigo avoided her gaze. “That’s…oh come now, you can’t possibly expect…”

“Am I very unattractive to you?” Morgan asked innocently. “Or were we lovers previously and now you don’t know how to rekindle the spark?”

“No and no!” Inigo replied, covering his face with his hands. “I think you’re very cute! I just…”

“Just what?”

Owain stepped in. “You probably would have cursed his toenails off if he’d tried,” he explained, finding it difficult not to join in Severa’s laughter at his cousin’s expense. If only Cynthia were here to see this. He’d have to tell her about it when they found her.

“Really?” Morgan asked mildly. “Perhaps it would make you feel better if I acted more like my old self. I’m sure I could whip something up quickly.”

Inigo tore his hands away from his face and held them up in self-defense. “No! No curses! Or at least don't mar my face—it’s my best feature!”

Morgan’s façade broke and she laughed with Severa. “Pathetic,” she declared.

“Now _that’s_ more like you,” Owain said, nodding his head.

oOoOo

**River’s Angle Village, Ylisse**

The villagers in the next town had heard nothing about Cynthia, but when Owain mentioned Chrom’s name, the shopkeepers’ attitudes changed drastically. “Don't say that name,” an innkeeper growled, lowering his voice. “You’ll bring him and his damn Shepherds here. Our crops ain’t grown like they should and we can’t afford to build new houses if he burns ours down.”

“Burns them down?” Inigo repeated, confused. “Why would Fa-, er, Chrom burn your houses down?”

“How should I know?” the innkeeper replied, shrugging his massive shoulders. “You’d think he’d have enough gold in his royal coffers and wouldn’t need to go around looting his own towns. The apple doesn’t fall far from the rotten tree, I reckon.”

Inigo continued to stare, trying to understand what he was hearing. “Looting towns? The Shepherds are guardians! They don’t loot anything!”

The innkeeper fixed him with a steely gaze. “Tell that to Overbridge a day’s ride from here. The Shepherds came on ‘em during the night and burned half the village to ash. Dunno how many died, but my friend Rog’s son was one of ‘em. If you’re here to sympathize with Chrom and his ilk, you can get the hell out of my inn.”

Inigo was too horrified to say anything more, so Owain took over the conversation. “Thank you for the information. Pay our friend here no mind—he’s just a bit surprised at the direction the government seems to be taking these days.”

The innkeeper grunted and continued to eye them until they left.

oOoOo

They told Chrom what they’d heard when they returned to camp that afternoon and it was all Robin could do to stop the Exalt from marching down into the town to address the rumors himself. “Bad idea, bad idea,” the Grandmaster said, pushing his friend back down into a seat. “ _Not_ terrifying your subjects by marching into their cities unannounced is our best option right now.”

“They’re already terrified!” Chrom protested. “They think I order the slaughter of my own people!”

“And we’ll fix that. Just not at this moment.” Robin patted his shoulder. “Let’s find whoever is soiling your name first and stop whatever havoc they’re wreaking. I think we’ll be better received that way."

Morgan nodded, watching Robin’s every move with big, adoring eyes. “Father’s right, Chrom. You’ll just scare them more now.”

Robin patted his daughter’s head and she smiled like she’d just been given an award. “Let’s tell the rest of the army what’s been going on so they know to be careful going into the surrounding areas for a little while.”

oOoOo

The impersonators had been busy; every town they visited had either been hit or knew a family member or friend who lived in a place that had been hit by the false Shepherds. Chrom did his best to rectify the misunderstanding, but no one would listen to him until he brought the brigands to justice and proved himself.

A few more days of searching brought them information on where the villains were camped and the Shepherds prepared to advance at once. As they marched, Owain kept his eyes on the sky, remembering what Inigo had initially said about Cynthia being spotted with the impersonators. “There’s no way she’s with a group of brigands,” he muttered under his breath. “She knows what Chrom looks like. She grew up in Ylisstol. If they did anything to her, I’ll slay them all. Rrgh…sword hand…twitching…”

Morgan watched him, eyebrows raised. “This Cynthia is important to you, isn’t she?”

“Eh?” Owain said, pulling out of his own headspace. “What?”

“Cynthia. The girl you’ve been mumbling about for the past mile. She’s important to you.” She said it as a fact, not a question, and Owain was surprised once again at how observant she was, even without her memories.

He nodded tightly. “Yeah,” he replied. “She’s important to me. She’s important to you too, by the way. We three were always together as kids.”

Morgan turned to her sister, who was on her other side. “Do you know her?”

“Not as well as I should. She was younger than me and…you know how Mother is…or I guess you don’t now, do you?” Noire gulped. “She didn’t like us spending a lot of time away from her.”

Morgan’s dark eyes took in her sister’s reluctance to say anything further. She pressed her lips together and looked at the ground. They walked in silence for a bit. “We had a group, actually,” Owain said, breaking the tension.

“A group? What kind of group?”

“We called ourselves the Justice Cabal!” Owain said proudly. “It sounds kind of silly to say it out loud now…”

Smiling again, Morgan looked up at his sheepish face. “What were our aims as an organization?”

“To bring justice to the world, of course, in all its forms.”

“A good creed, if not a bit broad,” Morgan laughed. “Did we have personas? Nicknames?”

“Oh yes! Cynthia was Beano the Barbarian Queen. I was…” Owain spun around, striking a pose with his hand covering part of his face. “OWAIN! SCION OF DARKNESS! BEARER OF THE SACRED BRAND ON MY EXALTED LEFT HAND!”

Soldiers marching nearby tittered and whispered to each other, but Morgan clapped, grinning. “Wonderful!” She said. “Did you write that yourself or is it from some sort of play?”

“I write all my own material,” he informed her seriously. “Owain the Scion of Darkness does not plagiarize.”

“And what was my name?” She asked eagerly. “I don’t think it can top yours.”

Owain frowned. “You…didn’t actually have a name. You were just always yourself.”

Morgan’s face fell. “Oh. Well that’s rather boring.”

“Not at all!” Owain informed her. Her frown was unbearable. “You didn’t need a nickname. Your personality and talents far exceed any mere mortal moniker we could possibly assign you.”

“What talents?” She asked, still frowning.

“Intelligence, for one,” Owain explained. “You were always the brains of the group. I’m the brawn and Cynthia is the heart. We worked best like that. Sometimes Gerome would visit with his family and hang out with us, but then he turned into a teenager and got a crush on Lucina and he’s had his head up his own arse ever since.”

Morgan nodded slowly. “I see, I see. Well, I’m glad to have been a part of such an esteemed group.”

“You’re still a part! Just wait until we find Cynthia. She’ll be glad to see you. I bet she’ll…are we here?” A hush had fallen over the small army and he lowered his voice. “Why are we stopping?”

Noire pulled her bow off her back and used it to gesture toward the front lines. “I think we’re close enough to their camp to start forming battle groups. Here comes Father now.”

Robin quietly sorted them according to complementary classes, putting mages and healers in larger groups of melee fighters. Noire hugged her sister before stepping forward with the other archers, who had orders to advance silently and fire into the enemy camp, then retreat swiftly as the cavalry swept in. Morgan pulled a tome out of her cloak and Owain gaped at it. “They gave you _Nosferatu_?”

“No, it’s just _Flux_ ,” Morgan admitted. “I wrote ‘Nosferatu’ on the front as a sort of mantra. Father says he’ll let me use a better tome if I can sharpen my control.”

Owain shuddered. “I think you’re plenty sharp. You’re just as good as your mother.”

“But not as good as Father,” Morgan said, gripping her tome tightly. “I have to work twice as hard.”

A snapping sound followed by angry shouts drew their attention. “That’ll be the archers,” Morgan said, opening her tome. In front of them, the mounted soldiers kicked their horses into action. “And there goes the cavalry. We’re up next. You ready?”

Owain didn’t reply; his eyes were on the skies, watching for movement. Even when his unit was ordered forward, his attention stayed split between the ground in front of him and the early dawn above. _Are you here?_

So distracted was he that Morgan had to watch his back as the first wave of brigands roared out of the camp to meet them. Finally, his vigilance was rewarded when a pegasus swooped out of the trees and into the clearing, a small figure astride. “There she is!” He yelled to no one in particular. Her orange pigtails were like beacons in the sky and his heart soared at the sight. “Cynthia!” He called, waving his arms.

She either didn’t see him or ignored him and continued on her path. Owain’s joy faded as he realized what she was doing. “Cynthia!” He called again, louder. “It’s us! Don’t fight us!” She paid him no mind and dove, nearly skewering a mage with her lance.

“Beano the Barbarian Queen is attacking us,” Morgan yelled over the din. “You need to do something quick!”

_Did she lose her memory like Morgan?_ Owain thought, breaking formation and sprinting toward the unit she was hunting. _What the hell is she doing?_ Ahead he saw a small group of archers nocking arrows in their bows. “NO!” He screamed, pushing himself even harder. “Don’t shoot at her! She’s not an enemy!”

The archers didn’t hear him until he barreled into them, knocking the lead sniper over. They cursed him loudly, picking themselves up and finding their weapons anew. “What are you doing to my archers?” A man yelled. Owain turned to see Virion running toward him, armed bow in hand.

“Tell them not to shoot at the pegasus knight!” Owain said, gasping for breath. “She’s with us!”

“She tried to stab Ricken,” Virion growled, yanking him off the sniper. “You’ll have to talk to Chrom or Robin if you want to change our orders. I’ll give you five minutes, then we’re shooting her down.”

Not bothering to respond, Owain scrambled to his feet and, dodging friends and foes alike, searched feverishly for blue or white hair. Another flash of orange caught his eye and he turned to see Gaius pulling out his own bow, a peppermint stick in his mouth. “Oi!” He yelled, grabbing the weapon and yanking it out of the assassin’s hands.

“What in the jam-covered hell are you doing, kid?” Gaius drawled, snatching his bow back.

“Don’t shoot the pegasus knight!”

Gaius laughed, switching the peppermint stick to the other side of his mouth. “Relax, buddy. I’m not gonna shoot my own wife.”

Owain looked up to see Sumia’s pegasus blocking a blow from Cynthia. The Shepherds had mobilized their airborne units to counter Cynthia. “No, I mean the other one!”

“She’s currently trying to hit my wife in the head with a spear,” Gaius said testily. “I shoot people who do that.”

“Usually, yes, but not this time,” Owain panted.

“And why not?”

“That’s your daughter.”

The peppermint stick shifted again. “Why is my daughter attacking her mother and showering our enemies with what looks like whole pansy blossoms?”

Owain looked up again. Gaius’ description was accurate; Cynthia was throwing flowers over the brigands in between jabs at Sumia. “…that’s kind of her thing. Just let me talk to her, okay?”

“If you say so,” Gaius replied, strapping his bow to his back again. “Guess I’ll look forward to the family reunion.”

Gerome’s dragon rose into the sky and Owain watched as he put himself between the fighting mother and daughter pegasus knight pair. He seemed to be shouting at both of them simultaneously. _At least someone else has recognized her and is trying to keep her safe_ , Owain thought. _I gotta remember to apologize to Gerome later for calling him Dark Dragon Dork._

Chrom’s recognizable battle shouts led Owain to where he was fighting the leader of the brigands. “CHROM!” Owain bellowed.

Both men turned to look at him and Chrom gritted his teeth. “I’m a bit busy right now,” he barked at Owain. “And you,” he said, pushing the brigand back. “Don’t turn when someone calls my name. I’m the only Chrom here!”

“What is it, Owain?” Another voice asked. Owain spun around to see Robin wiping blood off of his tome.

Fear rose in Owain’s chest again at the sight of the grandmaster covered in blood and he felt nauseated, but he suppressed the feeling as hard as he could. “Order the archers not to shoot down the redheaded pegasus knight!” He pleaded. “She’s Gaius and Sumia’s daughter, Cynthia. I don’t know why she’s attacking us but I know it’s her.”

Robin craned his neck to watch Cynthia throw a javelin at Gerome, who swiveled out of the way with room to spare. “I’ve been watching her,” he said loudly, trying to speak above the noise of battle. “She’s not moving like a trained soldier. Didn’t you say she trained with the Ylissean Pegasus Knights?” When Owain nodded, Robin narrowed his eyes. “She might have lost her memory like Morgan. She could also be hexed.”

“Hexed?” Owain repeated. “By whom?”

“A midlevel sorcerer if I had to guess,” Robin said. He watched her a little longer and nodded. “Definitely a hex, and a clumsy one at that. She’s hesitating. You look for the source. I’ll spread the word not to hurt her, especially to her parents. That would be a nasty surprise.”

Owain nodded. “I already told Gaius,” he called as Robin strode away. “Gerome might have told Sumia.” He hurried away, leaving Chrom, who was still arguing with the brigand leader about identity theft. Instead of searching for the elusive sorcerer, he searched for Morgan. Morgan would know more about the differences in mages than he did.

He found her beside her mother, the two working in tandem to take down a burly axe fighter. She was easily persuaded to join him and, once he’d explained, she set to work rooting out the source of Cynthia’s hex. After examining the altitude at which Cynthia was flying, she beckoned him over to the side of the skirmish and squinted at a small group of brigands who were holding against the Ylissean attackers. “It’s that man right there,” she said, pointing. “He’s barely able to use the lowest level tome because his hex is already taking most of his magic. Cover me.”

Owain planted himself beside her, sword out, and she closed her eyes, working up a spell behind a bush. When she’d expanded it to her satisfaction, she stepped out and hurled it at brigands. They dove out of the way, but the sorcerer, distracted as he was, took the full force of the spell to the torso. He skipped across the grass like a tiddlywink, coming to rest yards from where he’d started.

The spell hadn’t killed him, however, and he struggled to his feet, already readying a counter spell. Morgan laughed, sidestepping his attempt to hit her. “Amateur!” She scoffed, firing another volley at him.

Her assault on the sorcerer was weakening his concentration and Owain could see Cynthia falter in the sky. As soon as Morgan landed the killing blow, Cynthia stopped moving entirely, balking on the back of her pegasus. Gerome and Sumia circled her, waiting for her next move. She shook her head groggily, then looked around in shock. Owain could see them yelling at each other in the air, but couldn’t make out the words. When Cynthia put her spear away and guided her pegasus toward the ground followed by Sumia, he exhaled in relief.

She was safe.

* * *

_The gray walls were tall and strong and Odin ran his hand along them as he wandered down the halls. Each stone was smooth, having been carefully polished during the castle’s construction hundreds of years ago. Every now and again he encountered a meticulously embroidered wall scroll detailing some ancient battle in Ylisse’s history. He’d seen them all so many times he could probably draw them from memory._

_He turned a corner and stopped. What was it he was looking for? Something important. Something close. He had to hurry. Every corner he turned took him to another stone hall lit with sconces. Where was it? He couldn’t remember what he was chasing, but he knew that if he didn’t find it soon, something unforgiveable was going to happen._

_He broke into a run, weaving through hallways feverishly. Ah, there! Light was coming from behind that door. He opened it to reveal a mountaintop, complete with sudden drop into a lush valley. Was there a room like this in the castle? When he turned back, the doorway was gone and instead he found—_

_“Cynthia,” he breathed, warm relief washing over him like a desert wind. Of course she was who he’d been looking for._

_She grinned, closing her eyes with joy. “I found you!”_

_“I promised, didn’t I?” he replied, extending his arms to her. “You’ll always be able to find me.”_

_“That’s how I’ll know I’m dreaming, right?” she asked, nestling into his chest. “If I can’t find you, I’ll know it’s just a nightmare.”_

_“All you’ll have to do is wake up and I’ll be there. Odin Dark never goes back on his word.”_

_She pushed back, confused. “Who’s Odin Dark?”_

_Owain scratched his head with the hand not holding her. Where did that name come from? It was familiar but distant, like a character from a storybook his mother had read to him once. “I have no idea,” he admitted._

_She laughed, orange pigtails bouncing, and reached for his face. Her smile dropped and was replaced by a soft heat. Owain reached his own hand up, covering the one she held to his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her caress. She was so close, so warm, so real…he could feel her pulse tapping against his fingers._

_A sudden shock ran through his body and his eyes flew open. “Cynthia…you’re—Cynthia?”_

_The mountaintop was empty, save for a swirl of gently fluttering sakura petals that melted like snow when they hit the ground._

Odin jolted up in bed, heart pounding. For a moment he was drowning, gasping and clawing at the darkness, then the realization of who and where he was slammed into him like an axe blow. As his eyes adjusted, he looked around and saw that Leo and Niles were (ostensibly) still asleep.

He buried his face in his hands, his breathing ragged. When his heart slowed he laid back down to find his thin pillow damp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ratio of Owain to Odin is off, but there’s a reason for that.   
> Also, I gave Cynthia a different story for how the Shepherds found her. I refuse to believe she’s so dumb that she thought some random-but-well-organized brigand was Chrom. Sure, she’s not the brightest bulb out of all the kids, but come on. Really?
> 
> @LemonyDave: Hey--don't think I've given up on reading your story. I haven't and I like it! It's so cool to read what goes on in your mind when you think of the FE universe! Why Lon'qu? Why did he strike you as someone whose story you wanted to tell? 
> 
> @therebaeka: You're cruel. I like it. I assure you--I have plenty of pain coming down the train tracks. Choo choo motherfuckers.


	13. Your Kisses Tasted like Caramel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the Awakening gang gets older we start moving into more mature themes. I don't (read: can't) write smut but I'll be hinting around it and, you know, young adults will be young adults. 
> 
> So just a heads up.

**Shepherd’s Camp, Past**

Despite the constant reassurances that no one (except Ricken) was upset about the hex, Cynthia spent most of her first day with the Shepherds in tears. Sumia stayed by her side through the rest of the battle, talking softly to her and reorienting her as to where and when she was and what was happening. By the time the brigands were mopped up and Owain was able to see her properly, the waterworks had already been opened at full throttle.

“Owain!” she shrieked, pulling out of her mother’s comfort and running clumsily toward him. He caught her right as she tripped over her own toes, falling into his arms. “Did I try to hurt you? I’m so s-s-sorry!”

She sobbed anew, both in shame and also relief at seeing him alive and whole. Owain held her close, burying his face in her hair. He’d dreamed and fantasized about this moment so many times. “I’m just fine,” he assured her, rocking her back and forth. “I’m just glad you’re here! Gods, I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” She replied, pulling her head back to look at him. “I looked and looked for you but I couldn’t find any information about you at all! Finally I heard Chrom was leading a group in the north and I went to find them but it wasn’t Chrom and…and I can’t remember anything after that!”

Tears welled up in her big brown eyes again and Owain pulled her into his chest again. “Dry your tears, Beano, Queen of Barbarians!” He said, squeezing her. “Let not the foul memories of the past besmirch this joyous reunion!”

“It’s definitely you,” she said, laughing and hiccupping at the same time. “Who else could sound so heroic? You’ve gotten a little bit taller, though, haven’t you?”

With such a compliment echoing in his ears and Cynthia in his arms, Owain had never stood quite so tall.

oOoOo

Morgan didn’t flinch when Cynthia ran to her and wrapped her in a tight hug, though her face betrayed the smallest amount of fear. Owain mouthed the word ‘Cynthia’ at her, however, and understanding washed over her features. “I’m so happy to see you, Morgan! I worried about you all the time!”

Morgan gently extricated herself from Cynthia’s overenthusiastic smothering. “Hello, Cynthia,” she greeted her old friend.

“What have you done to your hair?” Cynthia gasped, tugging at Morgan’s shorn locks. “It’s so short! I’ve never seen it like this!”

“I guess it got cut off,” Morgan replied. “I don’t really remember.”

“You guess?” Cynthia repeated, tilting her head. “Oh no! Did you get hexed too?”

Morgan shrugged. “That’s the thousand gold question, isn’t it?”

When Cynthia stepped back, confused, Owain caught her wrist. “Morgan had an accident,” he explained. “You might want to give her a little space.”

“Accident?” Cynthia twisted around to look at her friend, expecting to see an injury she’d missed.

“When we found her, she didn’t remember anything about our previous world,” Owain said after Morgan nodded her approval. “We think something happened in the portal that took her memories.”

Cynthia’s eyes widened and she gaped at the little mage harder than ever. “How much did you forget?” She asked. “We can fill in the missing parts!

Morgan’s smile was wistful and wry. “Oh, I’ve forgotten it all. Filling in the gaps will be difficult, as you’d have to write down my entire life. If you’re up to the task, however, I won’t complain.”

“Your entire life…?” Cynthia pulled her hand free and stood in front of Morgan, horror in her eyes. “You remember me, don’t you?”

“Not even a little bit.” Morgan’s words were even and matter-of-fact and they cut into Cynthia like wire.

Owain pressed his lips together as Cynthia swayed on the spot. “The only thing she remembers is Robin. No—not…not like that,” he said hurriedly, seeing the alarm in the pegasus rider’s eyes. “She remembers nothing about the war or…anything that happened during it.”

Cynthia launched herself at Owain, hugging him hard around the neck and causing him to stumble back a bit. “Has anyone told her…?” She whispered in his ear, using the hug as a cover.

Patting Cynthia’s back, Owain shook his head with the smallest movements. He then opened his arms to Morgan. “Join us, Morgan! We are witnessing the reunification of the most noble Justice Cabal!”

Morgan laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll witness from where I am, thanks.”

A glimmer of irritation shined out of her keen, Plegian-black eyes and Owain knew that she knew they’d been talking about her. He looked away. How could anyone tell her that her father, the one she idolized and adored, the only person she still had memories of, had slaughtered the Shepherds and would have slaughtered her if Sully hadn’t protected her with her life?

“To the Justice Cabal!” Cynthia cheered, sliding out of Owain’s arms and raising her fist to the skies. “Hoorah!”

“Owain did mention our organization,” Morgan said, her face still tight. “Did we have a slogan?”

Cynthia nodded excitedly. “Of course we did! It was…oh, what was it again…oh! Right!” She struck a pose not unlike Owain’s. “We are the Justice Cabal, come to end injustice! Die now, in the name of a brighter tomorrow!”

Morgan laughed. “Now _that’s_ a war cry for the ages!” Cynthia and Owain joined in her laughter and, when she opened her eyes, they were bright again.

oOoOo

“Someone has to tell her eventually,” Severa muttered, frowning at the stars as she held a tent peg steady. “But it sure as hellfire isn’t going to be me.”

“Why, though?” Inigo asked, tying knots in a rope. “What harm does it do to let her live in her ignorance?”

Cynthia shook her head. “More like what good does it do to shatter her visions of the one person she has memories of?” She fiddled with the roll of canvas filling her arms. “I wish I could forget what happened.” At her words, Severa shot her a nasty look, but she missed it.

“She knows we’re hiding something from her,” Owain stated. “She’s too smart not to notice. Whether we tell her or she wheedles it from someone else, she’s going to find out eventually.”

“Lucy said we’re not supposed to tell anyone, though,” Cynthia reminded them. “We’re to keep the whole thing about Robin a secret so we don’t cause problems in the ranks.”

“ _Tch_ ,” Severa groused. “Secrets are stupid. We should share all the information we have with everyone and let them do with it what they will. Who put Lucina in charge, anyway?”

Owain ignored her. She knew full well that Lucina gave the order as their acting Exalt; she just wanted something to complain about. He beckoned Cynthia over and took the canvas from her. “Who is this tent for?” Cynthia asked, helping him stretch it out.

“Us,” Severa answered from the other side. “You’re tenting with me. Owain and the prissy prince are tenting together.”

Cynthia cringed, turning so Severa couldn’t see her. “R-right,” she replied. “Got it.”

Owain wanted to say something, to tell Severa to tone herself down for at least a few days, but he realized that would only anger her. She had wanted to stay with Inigo and for Owain to tent with Cynthia, but both boys had protested. Tenting with Severa was one thing. Tenting with Cynthia was something completely different. Owain swallowed hard, picturing such a scenario. He wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d get if he had to sleep beside Cynthia’s soft cheeks and gentle breathing.

If her night shift were as thin as Severa’s, he’d almost certainly die of sleep deprivation, among other things. Tenting with Inigo was the safer option all the way around.

He regretted the new arrangements as soon as he saw Cynthia’s tear-swollen face at breakfast the next morning. She and Severa were aggressively avoiding eye contact while Morgan watched them both with interest. “What's wrong?” Owain asked, setting his plate beside Cynthia and peering at her face. “What did Severa say to you?”

“Oh, right!” Severa snapped, standing and snatching her half-full plate off the table. “Blame me immediately! It’s always my fault, isn’t it?”

She stalked away, brown hair twitching petulantly behind her. Inigo sighed and followed, taking his food with him. Once they were out of sight, Owain turned back to Cynthia, who snuffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “She said mind-control hexes rely on weak-mindedness,” she said dully, picking at her food. “Which is why they chose me to hex. Basically she said I got hexed because I'm too dumb to fight it.”

Owain groaned. “Gods…That’s not even true! Intelligence has nothing to do with hexes, right Morgan?” He looked over Cynthia’s head at Morgan, who refused to meet their gazes.

“I’m an amnesiac,” the mage replied, becoming intently interested in her breakfast. “How should I know?”

“Well, regardless,” he continued, cringing internally, “You were definitely fighting it. Even Robin commented on it.”

Cynthia looked up, hopeful. “Really?”

“Would I lie to you?” Owain asked. “He said he could tell you were struggling against the hex. You’re not dumb! You’re Beano the Barbarian Queen!”

She frowned. “Yeah, _Beano_ , not _Brain-o_ the Barbarian Queen,” she said sourly. “I should have been able to break out of it. You would have been able to.”

“Doubtful,” Morgan offered, her mouth full of bread.

Owain glared at her, then patted Cynthia’s back. “Do you…do you not want to tent with her? I could…” He felt his cheeks warm with the suggestion. “Or maybe Morgan could trade with you?”

“No,” Cynthia replied stubbornly. “I’ll be fine. It’s just Severa.”

oOoOo

Owain was unsurprised when Severa let herself into his and Inigo’s tent a few nights later, hair undone and exasperation on her face. “I give up,” she snapped, kicking Owain’s leg. “Go to your girlfriend.”

“What happened?” He asked irritably, rolling out of his pallet. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“No clue,” Severa answered, throwing his blanket at him. “She was eating candy and started crying. She won’t tell me why.” When Owain raised an eyebrow at her, she threw his shoes at him too. “ _No,_ I didn’t say anything to upset her. This one isn’t my fault.”

Owain pulled his shoes on as she settled into his pallet. Inigo opened his eyes, saw Severa, and immediately protested. “What’s this?”

Severa turned her back to him. “Just go back to sleep,” she said, her voice abnormally subdued. “I’m not going to touch you and if _you_ touch _me_ I’ll kill you.”

Inigo turned his eyes to Owain, who shrugged. “Something’s wrong with Cyn,” he explained, stuffing his blanket and clothes into his knapsack. “I might be back and I might not.”

“You won’t,” Severa muttered. “Get going.”

oOoOo

Owain heard Cynthia crying even before he opened the tent flap. The sound of her misery punctured his heart and he wasted no time in entering the tent. “Cynthia!” He said, putting his knapsack down and sinking to his knees beside her. “What’s wrong?”

She had a partially eaten box of soft caramels in her lap and rumpled wax squares strewn about. When Owain tried to move the candy box, she clutched onto it harder. “D-don’t,” she sobbed. “Th-they’re mine!”

Confused, Owain withdrew his hands. After a moment, he fished around in his bag, coming up with a handkerchief. Cynthia took it and blew her nose noisily. When her sobs died down, he tried again. “Did Severa say something awful again?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said thickly.

“Are the caramels bad?” He asked.

“No,” she said again, “th-they’re delicious.”

“Who gave them to you?”

She sniffed, tears coursing down her cheeks again. “D-d-daddy.”

_Ah_ , Owain thought, understanding. “You spent time with your Dad today, huh?” When she nodded, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Was it awkward?”

Cynthia shook her head again, staring at the candy miserably. “Not at all. He’s j-just like I remember.”

“Oh,” Owain replied, bemused. What made her cry then? “Did it make you think about…you know…”

“No…it was a great day. We went to town and he bought me candy and we talked a lot,” she said, rubbing her face with the handkerchief. “It’s like he never even died.”

Owain wasn’t sure what to say. “What’s wrong, then?”

“I don’t know!” She wailed, holding the candy box so tightly she dented a corner. “I started eating these caramels and thinking about how m-much I love him and then I just started crying and c-couldn’t help it!” More tears dripped onto the candy. “He’s and mother are so close—they’re just a walk away—but I still feel like I’ve lost them! I thought everything would go back to normal when I found them again but…it didn’t! It didn’t!”

As she cried, she unwrapped another caramel and put it in her mouth. The milky sweetness spread over her tongue and she sobbed silently. A lump grew in Owain’s throat and he reached out, pulling her into his arms. She turned toward him, the box sliding off her lap and onto the ground. “I’m tired of crying,” she mumbled into his neck. “I know I do it all the time. I’m sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he said, sitting cross-legged and pulling her into his lap. “I’m here. You can cry all you need to.”

She sniffled into his shoulder in response and they stayed that way until she’d cried herself out. Once she’d blown her nose and splashed some water on her face, he tucked her in her bed and put the caramels away for her. After a moment of hesitation, he lay down beside her and stroked her hair until he was reasonably sure she was asleep. As soon as he rose to leave, however, she snagged his hand. “Stay,” she begged softly.

Owain nodded, lying back down on Severa’s pallet. “Of course,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “As long as you need me.”

“I’ll always need you,” Cynthia mumbled, finally drifting off to sleep.

oOoOo

“I need a favor,” Owain announced, catching Inigo on his way to a nearby town. The prince halted, listening. “I need to permanently switch tents with Severa.”

Inigo groaned “Why can’t—”

“I’ve already asked Morgan and she said she won’t leave Noire. Neither Nah nor Kjelle will agree to switch. I’ve tried everyone I can think of but no one is willing to tent with Severa,” Owain explained.

A muscle clenched in Inigo’s jaw. “There’s a _reason_ no one wants to share with Severa, you know,” he said. “She’s not exactly easy to live with.”

“Sure, she rags on you a bit, but I thought you two got along well. Did something happen?”

Inigo sighed, looking around to make sure they were alone. When he saw no one, he pulled Owain behind a tree for extra privacy. “I…I think…I think she fancies me,” he admitted, his face immediately turning the same color as his mother’s hair.

Owain rolled his eyes. “Bully for you, then. Isn’t your whole point in life to have women like you? You’ve become extra insufferably flirtatious since we came to this time.”

“You know that’s just how I deal with my shyness,” Inigo said, offended.

“It’s gone beyond shyness now,” Owain pointed out skeptically. “You’re sneaking out of camp at this very moment. You’re having ‘tea’ with that barmaid from last week, aren’t you?”

Inigo colored further. “Don’t say ‘tea’ like that. You act like I’m some profligate.”

“Aren’t you?” Owain asked, partially because he sincerely believed it and partially because he enjoyed incensing his cousin.

“No!” Inigo snapped. “It’s just tea! Drinkable, lightly sweetened tea! It’s not a euphemism for anything else. Don’t raise your eyebrow at me! I’m serious! I like chatting with attractive ladies.”

Owain nodded along amiably. “But not with Severa.”

“We always chat. And she wants to do more than just chat,” Inigo said, lowering his voice. He reached out and took his cousin’s shoulders. “This morning I woke up and she was all cuddled against me and had pulled herself in my arms! She did it back on Mount Prism, too!”

“Oh no, nuh-uh,” Owain replied, knocking Inigo’s hands off his shoulders. “That’s _your_ fault, not Severa’s. You always drape yourself over the nearest warm person in your sleep.”

Inigo’s face blanched. “I do not! I’ve never woken up like that with you!”

“That’s because I’m a light sleeper and fend you off multiple times a night,” Owain retorted. “If I slept any deeper, you’d probably find a way to crawl into my skin. _You’re_ the handsy one, not Severa. You’re lucky she didn’t knock your nose into your skull.”

“That’s...you’re lying, aren’t you?” Inigo whined. When Owain shook his head, the prince wilted. “Fine. I’ll trade tents with you. I suppose I owe Severa an apology too, don’t I?”

Owain shrugged. “Probably, if you were a jerk to her about it this morning.” He plucked a shiny beetle off the tree and let it scuttle over his finger. “Not that it matters to me but…would it be all that bad if she did feel that way about you?”

“Yes,” Inigo replied immediately. “Can you imagine us together? She’d never let me out of her sight. My tea-drinking days would be over.”

“Well…if you had feelings for her, you wouldn’t _want_ to drink tea with other women,” Owain said, realizing he was answering his own question. “I guess since you’re sneaking out of camp right now it means you don’t feel anything special for her, huh.”

Inigo sighed and looked at the ground. “You and Severa are my best friends. She in particular has always been by my side. Nothing against you, of course,” he added quickly. “But you spent more time with Morgan and Cynthia than I did. Even when you were gone, Severa was with me.” He looked up at Owain. “How do _you_ feel about her?”

“Me?” Owain, taken aback, considered the question. “She’s like you and Lucina to me,” he said after thinking for a moment. “She’s family, minus our aching and exalted blood. Is that how you feel?”

“I thought so at first,” Inigo replied.

“You wouldn’t hesitate to share a tent with Lucina,” Owain pointed out. “What’s different?”

Inigo furrowed his brows. “Would…would you laugh at me if I said I feel like Severa is closer than family? Like a…a twin or…no, that’s not right.” He shook his head. “She’s like…my conscience. She’s always in my head and she always has been. The year we spent apart when we got separated was the longest I’ve ever been without her and I felt…empty and lonely and so, so free.”

Owain stared at his cousin, shocked to hear so much thought tumbling from his lips. “Do you prefer it that way?”

“I don’t know,” the prince admitted. “I finally felt like I was just Inigo and not half of Inigo-and-Severa. It was terrifying and exciting. As soon as I saw her again all the lines re-blurred. I guess I’m still trying to figure out where I end and she begins.”

            Owain blinked, trying and failing to understand what it would feel like to have that sort of bond with someone. Inigo was certainly correct in one respect—whenever Owain searched his memories, he always found Severa and Inigo side by side. When that was impossible, one was never more than a loud shout or short jog from the other. He and Cynthia had been different; he’d seen her only sporadically since she’d begun training with the Pegasus Knights after Sumia’s death. When they reunited they were immediately thrust into war and were again separated by class.

“As your cousin and fellow bearer of the Brand, I want to give you advice,” Owain began. “But I don’t have any. All I can say is that she probably feels similar to the way you do. If it ever turned out that she _did_ have feelings for you…you should let her down easy. Maybe she’s even more terrified of being just Severa than you are.”

Inigo tilted his head, his eyes far away. “I never thought about her side. What a mess.”

Owain clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. Anyway, I’m going to move my stuff before she throws it out; she was going to switch tents with me whether you agreed or not. Have fun with your barmaid.”

“Stop saying it like that!” Inigo called at Owain’s back as the latter returned to camp. “It’s just tea!”

oOoOo

“I don’t think it’s just tea,” Cynthia stated one night when Inigo reappeared in camp after another evening out. “Look at his face. He looks way too satisfied with himself.”

Owain leaned back, getting a better view of his cousin. Cynthia had a point; Inigo _did_ look rather smug. Owain hated that look as it usually presaged some irritating nonsense to which he was about to be subjected. As much as he loved Inigo, he neither wanted to hear about his latest conquest nor deal with Severa’s sulking when she found out. “Some girl probably said she likes his boots,” he said dismissively, leaning forward again.

Cynthia made a sound of disagreement in her throat. “I dunno. Usually he’d come over and tell us something like that immediately. It looks like he’s not going to come over at all. He’s heading back to his tent. His tunic is also wrinkled.”

“Stop speculating about what Inigo has or hasn’t done with village women who have low standards. It’s gross.” Owain stood, stretching. “Let’s go to sleep; I’m beat. I miss the future when Frederick had arthritis in his knees and hosted Fanatical Fitness Half-hours instead of full hours. He’s way too spry at this age.”

Cynthia stood as well and yawned. “I agree. I’m a mounted unit, anyway. Why should I have to run?”

Smirking, Owain pinched her tummy. “You have to run to work off all those macarons you and your dad filched from Uncle Chrom’s closet.”

“Wha—hey! How did you know that was us?” Cynthia protested, fending off his hands.

“Who else would it be?”

His logic was airtight and Cynthia couldn’t argue. “Don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

“Your secrets are my secrets,” Owain said, putting a hand to his chest. “It’s Uncle Chrom’s fault, anyway. He should either have kept them a secret or hidden them better. Everyone knows if you have sweets available they’re going to get stolen.”

The two headed for their tent, waving goodnight at friends and family as they went. “Remember in our time period when my mother baked Chrom a pie as a birthday present while he was off visiting the Khans?”

“Oh, I remember that! Didn’t she…didn’t she hide it in a tree to keep your father from eating it?”

“She also booby-trapped it,” Cynthia added. “But he smelled it from all the way across the camp. When we woke up the next morning he was swinging from the tree by one foot, but he’d still managed to eat half the pie using a long branch he’d gnawed into a makeshift spoon.” She closed her eyes, giggling.

Owain also laughed at the memory. “If I recall correctly, you stood underneath the branches while we waited for Sumia to come undo her trap, and Gaius dropped cherries from the pie into your mouth.”

“They were _so_ sour,” Cynthia said, still laughing. “We did her a favor, honestly. Chrom would never have eaten the pie except to be polite.” They ducked into their tent and, as was custom, turned their backs to each other as they undressed. “Hey,” she asked as she pulled her dress over her head. “Do you think all those things will repeat?”

Owain, who was folding his tunic, resisted the niggling urge to look over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Like…all the fun things we remember. The silly things our parents did, like the time Vaike knocked over a shelf in Miriel’s library and they all fell over one by one like dominoes.” Fabric rustled and her voice was muffled briefly. “Do you think all that stuff is bound to repeat? If we fast forwarded to Chrom’s birthday however many years from now, would I find Daddy hanging from that same tree by his ankle, dropping cherries into another me’s mouth?”

Owain turned around to find her dressed for bed and in the process of untying her pigtails. The lantern light shone through her shift from behind, turning it almost translucent. He averted his eyes, trying to think of anything except the curve of her waist as it connected the swells of her breasts and hips. _Augh_ , he thought, his breathing unsteady. _It’s not working._ “Are you okay?” Cynthia’s voice broke his concentration and he flinched.

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, his eyes on the tent wall. “Just…we should go to sleep.”

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Concerned, Cynthia took a step toward him.

He hazarded a glance her way and immediately regretted it when he realized he could make out the outlines of her smallclothes under her nightie. “S-stop,” he said weakly, covering his eyes with one arm. “The light…it shines through that dress.”

There was a pause, then Cynthia pried his arm away from his face. “I don’t mind,” she said, her face flaming under her carrot hair. “If you see me, I mean. I don’t mind.”

Owain’s heart jolted in his chest and began thumping faster than he’d ever felt it before. “I'm a man, you know,” he said, trying to keep his eyes from wandering. “You should keep that in mind.”

“Aren’t you supposed to show yourself to the man you love?” Cynthia asked, clutching her nightshift and trembling. “That’s why I don’t mind if you see me.”

If she was trying to blow all the fuses in his brain and shut it off, she was succeeding. Feeling hardly in control of himself and only half believing this was really happening, Owain allowed his eyes to drop until he met Cynthia’s gaze. She was only a few inches shorter than him and she’d lifted on her toes, bringing her face right in front of his. “That’s…” he began, but all words failed him.

She clumsily put her hands on his chest, now unable to look at his face. “You don’t sleep with a shirt on,” she mumbled, her fingers awkwardly twitching on his skin as if she didn’t know what to do with them now. “Didn’t you ever think about what that was doing to _me_?”

“No…I didn’t…” Owain mumbled, wanting to touch her also but unsure how to go about it.

“All those plans we’ve made…all the talk of the future together…were you serious about them?” Cynthia asked.

Owain shook his head, finally grabbing her wrists. “Always. I meant every word.”

Cynthia’s eyes started watering. “We’ve lost everything except each other…I don’t ever want to lose you. I want you to be mine forever and I want everyone to know it.”

Pulling her against his chest, Owain wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve always been yours. I thought you knew that.”

“Well, I wanted to hear you say it!” She said reproachfully.

He pushed her back, still holding her waist. “I…I, Owain, Scion of Darkness and bearer of the exalted brand on my fated left hand, love you, Cynthia, otherwise known as Beano the Barbarian Queen. I’m yours, now and forever.”

Her face was pink but immeasurably pleased. “And I, Cynthia, otherwise known as Beano the Barbarian Queen, creator and eater of all things sweet, love you, Owain, vessel of the sacred blood!”

They stared at each other, smiling uncontrollably. Cynthia awkwardly put her hands on Owain’s shoulders, her smile slipping into a determined expression. “Now, kiss me to seal this pact.”

Why, oh why hadn’t he asked Inigo or Brady or _anyone_ for information about how to kiss girls? He always figured that when it came time to kiss someone he’d just know how to go about it, but now here she was looking at him with her soft gray eyes and he hadn’t the first idea what to do with what. “I’ve…I’ve never…” he mumbled, mortified.

Her expression didn't change. “Me neither,” she reassured him. “How hard can it be? If Inigo can do it, we definitely can.”

Inigo was the last person Owain wanted to think about at this moment, but she was right. There was no way his cousin was going to beat him in this regard or any other. He approached Cynthia’s face, scared to move his hands from her waist lest he make her uncomfortable. Slowly, gently, he pressed his lips to hers, unsure how much pressure to use.

She stood on her toes again, bringing her face right in front of his, and kissed him again. He could taste the sugar on her lips from the meringue she’d been eating after dinner. He pulled at her hips, pressing her body against his more fully. _Shit_ , he thought, trying to reposition himself. It was happening again.

“It’s okay,” Cynthia mumbled against his lips. “We’re not children anymore. We can do things like this.”

Was she giving him permission? “Can I…?” He asked, his hands on her waist delicately as if afraid he might hurt her. She nodded and he gripped her harder, sliding his hands up her back and feeling the places about which he’d only ever daydreamed. She responded by moving her own hands, bringing them down his chest and running her fingers over the muscles there.

They continued kissing, pressing harder and harder into each other until they all but toppled over onto Owain’s bedroll. Their kisses became faster, sloppier, and no matter how much of each other they touched, it was never enough. Eventually Owain stopped caring about his body betraying him and pressed himself flush against Cynthia, who pretended not to notice.

Every new inch of skin was a wilderness to be explored. Awkward fumbling eventually became gentle caresses and, as the moon moved across the sky, they slowed their ministrations to simply appreciate each other’s proximity. When they finally noticed that the evening crickets had gone silent, they snuggled together to catch a few hours of sleep before morning call.

oOoOo

**Nohrian Side of Camp, Deeprealm in the Astral Planes**

His own irritation building, Leo noticed his retainer’s concentration deteriorating for reasons he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain. His frustration finally reached its boiling point when Odin wandered into the bathhouse during the women’s bathing time, earning himself screams and a potent fungus curse from Rhajat.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you the past few days,” the Nohrian prince said, helping his befuddled retainer pick enoki mushrooms out of his ears. “But it needs to stop. Beruka is already after your head and now you’ve enraged Rhajat! Do you truly wish to die? Worse yet, you’re making a laughingstock out of me. I’m poorly compared to Xander enough as it is and you bumbling about like a concussed cabbage farmer is not helping.”

Odin hung his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry, Milord. Honestly, I am.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you talking nonsense like you usually do? You’re entirely unlike yourself.” He examined his retainer’s downcast face, taking note of his ashen skin and the deep circles under his eyes. “You look like the wrong end of a Faceless. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I…I haven’t been sleeping well lately, no,” Odin replied.

“Go to Princess Sakura and have her check you over. If she clears you, take the rest of the day off and rest,” Leo ordered, plucking the last mushroom from Odin’s ear canal and tossing the fungus over his shoulder. “I want you back to fighting shape tomorrow. Corrin is taking us back into that damned Vallite forest soon.”

Odin nodded. Perhaps Sakura could give him something to help. He made his way to the medical station and opened the door to find Sakura and Elise trimming herbs and trading stories about their siblings. “Ryoma-nii convinced Hinoka-nee not to open the d-door, but Setsuna sleepwalked right past the s-sign, causing the—oh! W-w-w-welcome Odin!” Sakura stood and bowed, her strawberry hair shielding her face from view.

“Hello!” Elise called, waving with a hand full of mugwort. “Then what happened, Sakura? Don’t stop there!”

Sakura shook her head. “I’ll t-tell you the r-rest later. W-wo-work first and play after.” The Hoshidan princess’ stutter was noticeably worse in front of Odin than it had been when she had been alone with Elise. “Come s-s-sit do-down,” she directed her patient gently.

Odin tossed a glance at Elise, who was sweeping her pile of cut herbs into a basket. She seemed at ease, but her hands were trembling slightly as she worked. When she finished, she tilted her head at the mage. “Are you sick, Odin?”

“This is merely a formality ordered by your most magnanimous Lord Brother,” Odin said, taking a seat on one of the patient tables. “I’m as hale and hearty as ever.”

He could tell Elise didn’t fully believe him, but she nodded. “Well, alright. I’m gonna go the stables, Sakura. I’ll come back when I’m finished taking care of my horse.”

“You don’t have to go,” Odin pointed out. “Feel free to stay.”

“No way!” Elise said. “This is a medical tent and you never know when someone’s going to have to get naked. I’m out!”

Sakura’s face immediately flamed red and she buried her face in her hands. “Elise! No-no-no one’s getting na-na-na-na-na-na- _naked_!”

“Just saying! See you later!” Elise left, guffawing at her success in embarrassing the priestess.

Still blushing, Sakura busied herself arranging staves that didn’t need arranging in an attempt to calm her nerves and avoid Odin’s eyes. When she’d sufficiently relaxed, she sighed and seated herself in front of her patient. “Elise is my b-best friend b-but she s-says the strangest things s-sometimes.”

“She does, doesn’t she? She always keeps me on my toes,” Odin said, laughing.

Sakura smiled shyly. “You s-said Lord Leo se-sent you to me. What c-can I do for you?”

What _could_ she do? Sleep potions might exacerbate the problem. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he explained. “It’s affecting my service to my liege and has caused some…problems lately.” Luckily, Sakura hadn’t been in the bath when he’d mistakenly crashed the women’s bathing time. He didn’t actually know who _had_ been there aside from Rhajat; he had been deep in thought when he’d changed and opened the door. He’d only realized his mistake when someone threw a washing bowl at him and matsutake mushrooms started sprouting from his armpits.

“I-I heard about tha-that,” Sakura admitted. “Are you unable to g-g-go to s-sleep or are y-you wa-waking up frequently?”

Odin frowned, wondering how to explain his situation. It wasn’t as if he could tell her the full truth. _Your best friend has feelings for me but I’m actually from another dimension. Do you have any herbs to help a situation like this?_ With all the trouble from Valla lately, he’d likely be accused of being the Vallite spy and cast out of the army. “I’ve been having a lot of nightmares,” he finally replied, settling for a half-truth.

“Oh,” Sakura said softly. “I’m s-sorry to hear that.” Odin made no reply and she wrote some words on a pad in her hand. “These ni-nightmares…are they about re-real pe-people and events or are they n-n-nonsensical?”

“Real people,” Odin muttered.

“Did so-something bad happen to you r-recently?”

Odin wobbled his head. “Recently? Nothing bad per se. Something stressful, I suppose.”

Sakura looked around and lowered her voice. “I wo-won’t tell Elise,” she assured him, clenching her fist earnestly. “You have m-m-my wo-word.”

“So you know, then,” Odin replied dully.

The priestess fiddled with the tassels on her short skirt. “I’m s-sorry…Elise t-t-t-told me…”

Shrugging, Odin sighed. “I thought she might.”

Sakura avoided his eyes and the two sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute. “Was…was Elise’s co-co-confession unwa-wa-wanted?”

Confusing? Yes. Unwanted? “No,” Odin answered. “It wasn’t.”

“Then d-do you…I-I-I know I’m overs-s-s-s-stepping my b-boundaries but…” Sakura fumbled, torn between professionalism and curiosity. “Are you go-going t-t-to…I’m s-s-s-sorry! I should-should-shouldn’t be asking th-this!” Odin put a hand on her shoulder, hoping it would calm her down, but it seemed to do the opposite. “Eep!” She squeaked, looking at his hand with terror.

“Sorry!” Odin apologized, retracting the offending hand. “I forgot Hoshidans don’t do physical contact!”

“It’s okay!” Sakura assured him, clapping her hands together in apology. “I’m s-sorry I’m so j-jumpy!”

This whole exchange was making Odin more tired. “Anyway, I know there’s nothing you can do about nightmares. This whole visit was just a formality for Milord’s sake. Thank you for listening.”

Sakura shook her head, holding up her hands. “No, w-wait, I actually _can_ help w-w-with your n-ni-nightmares.”

“Really?”

“I don’t have the ingredients for it r-right here at my f-fi-fingertips, but I can get them,” the priestess said, scribbling on her paper again. “If you’re w-willing to give me three or four days I can s-s-start a potion brewing that I think you’d fin-find helpful. It won’t c-completely s-st-stop your dreams, but it s-slows them.”

It sounded too good to be true. “Alright,” Odin agreed. “I would be most grateful.”

A satisfied smile warmed Sakura’s face. “I’m so g-glad I can be of help.”

“Is there anything I can do for you in return?” Odin asked, hopping off the table. “I’m highly skilled at missions that involve delving into the darkness between the dimensions.

“Ah…no, I do-don’t think I have missions I need c-completed,” Sakura said apologetically. “Only…w-well, I do have one favor to ask…”

“Anything!” Odin promised, putting a hand on his heart. “Ask and Odin Dark will see it done!”

Sakura looked at her feet. “If you w-w-would talk to-to-to Elise soon, I’d be happy. She’s been w-wo-worried.”

Well. He’d promised her he’d do anything, hadn’t he? Promises like that were always better in theory than practice. “Consider it done,” he said after a moment. “And thank you again.”

“Of c-c-course. Come again!” Still looking at the floor, Sakura waved as he left the tent.

oOoOo

Nightmares plagued Odin again that night, more vivid and horrible than ever. After waking from a dream in which he was fighting once again on Grima’s enormous scaly back, he wiped his face with his cloak and decided to go for a walk. Lying in his cot would do nothing except tempt him back into treacherous slumber.

Camp was quiet, with only the crackle of watch fires and the rustle of the breeze in the trees marring the silence. Skin still damp with sweat, Odin drew his cloak around himself more tightly to ward off a chill. Part of him wanted Elise to appear out of the darkness and stop his roiling mind, but another part was terrified she actually would. He hadn’t yet fulfilled his promise to Sakura and it lay on his mind almost as heavily as his nightmares.

Instead of Elise, Odin found Laslow sitting near a fire, repairing a rip in his usual quilted jerkin. Unsurprisingly, Selena was beside him, leaning against a log and dozing. “Ho! Odin Dark approaches!” Odin greeted them.

Selena cracked an eye open to glare at the newcomer, then shut it again. Laslow raised a hand, surprised but pleased to see his friend. “Hullo,” he replied.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Selena grumped. “Didn’t you hear that Corrin’s dragging us back into that godsforsaken forest in a few days? You ought to get sleep while you still can.”

“Good evening to you too,” Odin said sarcastically. “Where do you get off lecturing me on my sleeping habits when you’re using a log for a pillow?”

“I’m only awake because _he_ got kicked out of his tent again,” Selena explained. “It’s not my choice.”

Laslow shook his head. “No one’s forcing you to stay out here with me.” Selena glared at him, wounded, and he chuckled. “I appreciate it, though.”

Sitting herself up with her back against the log, Selena eyed Odin curiously. “What brings you out? You look terrible.”

Ignoring her attempt at concern, Odin sat down on a log catty-corner to them. He opened his mouth to speak but found that he hadn’t thought this far ahead and had nothing prepared to say. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Laslow lowered his sewing. Now feeling put on the spot, anxiety stuck Odin’s jaws together. He played with a loose piece of bark, stalling. “You were right as usual, Selena,” he said finally, laughing wryly.

“Of course I was,” she said primly. “What about?”

Odin exhaled, leaning back to look at the stars. They were glittering the same as always, filling him with uncertainty. _Until you’re sure, you don’t have to look at them,_ Elise had said. He tore his eyes away and focused on his friends. “Elise confessed to me,” he said, feeling embarrassed like a teenager again. “She wants to be lovers.”

Selena’s face tightened and she glanced up at Laslow, whose expression was carefully neutral. “And?” She demanded.

“…and I think I’m going accept,” Odin replied, staring into the fire. “Probably tomorrow.”

A beat, then Selena spoke again in a measured, softly outraged voice. “And I suppose you’re here because your decision is causing you to have trouble sleeping. You want us to validate you.”

“No,” Odin retorted, annoyed that she was reacting in exactly the way he’d feared. “You’re my friends and I thought you’d want to know. I’m not looking for anything from you. And yes, if you must know, I’ve been having nightmares. If I look terrible, know that I feel even worse.”

“Do you think getting together with Lady Elise is going to help these nightmares?” Selena asked. “If you feel bad now, imagine how you’ll feel then.”

“Princess Sakura’s helping me with the nightmares.” When his friends looked confused, Odin explained. “She says she can make a potion that keeps the drinker from dreaming as much.”

His words seemed to offend Selena more than anything he’d said up to that point. “Let me get this right,” she said in a low, silky voice. “Cynthia’s love is inconvenient, so you’re going to _banish her with drugs_.”

Odin jumped to his feet, horror and anger mixing into a slurry of misery. “How dare you?” He growled.

“How dare _I?_ ” Selena spat. “You can’t—”

“Shut up, Severa,” Laslow interrupted, rising and moving to stand defensively in front of Odin, who was shaking. “Can’t you ever shut up? Keep your venomous fangs in your mouth for once in your life.”

Odin stared at his back, eyes wide. On the ground, Selena blanched, gripping grass in both hands and ripping out tufts. She stared at Laslow for a minute, then carefully stood up on shaking legs and dusted the grass off her behind. Refusing to look at Odin, she wordlessly turned and walked unsteadily away.

Laslow remained planted between her and Odin until she disappeared. “Sorry, mate,” he said softly, sounding shell-shocked himself. “She had no right to say something like that to you.”

Her words came rushing back, hitting him like a wave of dark magic, and Odin felt his knees weaken. “I can’t tell if she’s right or not,” he mumbled, sinking back down onto the log.

“She’s not,” Laslow replied, kneeling beside him. “She’s so, so wrong. I love her, but she can be a real idiot and a cruel one at that.”

Odin raised his eyebrows. “What?” Laslow asked, coloring in the face. “You know how I feel about her.”

“I didn’t know _you_ knew how you felt about her.”

“That isn’t the point,” Laslow deflected. “The point is that Severa was way out of line. You’re not…banishing _her_. You’re allowed to seek happiness, even if it’s with someone else. That’s what she wants for you—I know it.” He clapped a hand on Odin’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think Lady Elise fits you very well. She’s a delightful woman.”

One side of Odin’s mouth lifted in a partial smile. “She is, isn’t she? It’s hard to be unhappy around her.”

“…I wish I could say that same for Severa.” Laslow looked in the direction the redhead had vanished and grimaced, an expression Odin had seen on Chrom’s face many times. “I’ve never been quite so harsh with her before. Will she kill me or kiss me? That’s the question…”

“Neither inspires my envy,” Odin said, shuddering. “May Naga have mercy on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew lad we on the pain train now  
> If anyone's interested, the song I think fits Owain and Cynthia's relationship overall is Meet Me on the Battlefield by SVRCINA.
> 
> @LilacMist: RIGHT? I thought so too! Severa is one of my favorite characters to write, but I feel like she makes me a worse person. I'm always extra sassy after writing one of her scenes haha. 
> 
> @LemonyDave: I hope this satisfied all your expectations xD
> 
> @BlimpFruit: Waughh thank you so much for your kind words! I'm glad the characters can speak to you! Please continue to stay with Owain, Cynthia, Elise, and me as we go through a lot more together!


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